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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY,

DOCTRINES OF THE OXFORD TRACTS

FOR THE TIMES.

BY THE
AUTHOR OF "SPIRITUAL DESPOTISM."

Fas est etenim, ut prisca ilia ccelestis philosophJBe dogmata processu
temporis excurentur, limentur, polientur ; sed nefas est, ut commu-
tentur ; nefas, ut detruncentur, ut mutilentur. Accipiant licet eviden-
tiam, lucem, distinctionem j sed retineant, necesse est, plenitudinem,
integritatem, proprietatem. — Tiwcehtius LmiNEifSis.

FOURTPI EDITION.
WITH SUPPLEMENT, INDEX, AND TABLES.

J.. JLmjJJJ.A.a

VOL. I.

LONDON :
HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
1844.

V.

PREFACE.

Although during the past twelve months the doctrines
promulgated by the writers of the Tracts for the Times
have lost nothing of their original and intrinsic weight, their
relative importance has been sensibly diminished by the
rapid advances of that system with which those doctrines
cannot fail to be associated in the public mind.-^The sud
den expansion of romanism in all parts of the world where
it has a footing, has had the inevitable effect of reducing
the apparent magnitude of what so lately had attracted all
eyes ; and it now seems that the wave of Oxford divinity,
mantling as high as ever, is but a billow in the mighty
swell which is curling on toward our shores.
These writers, who, in fact, have not received strict and
discriminating justice from all hands, may loudly protest
against the unfairness of being thus left to be swallowed up
in the deluge which the old dragon i.s pouring from his
jaws. They may indeed have some good reason to complain
in this instance ; for have they not themselves ' prophesied '
against Rome ? have they not, in one breath, denounced

PREFACE.

the novelties of Rome, Geneva, and Wittenburg ?* This
may be true ; nevertheless such an association of themselves
and their doctrines with the present spread of romanism is
beyond the power of either friend or foe fo prevent. The
mass of men are too busy and eager to give heed to those
nice and occult, albeit real and valid distinctions, which
may constitute the diiference between things apparently
one and the same. Unlearned eyes are not quick to deter
mine whether a splendid front be the pure Corinthian, or
the specious and showy Composite. But Oxford Tract
writers are doubtless of too philosophic a temper to be per
turbed in their cloisters by the popular inadvertence which
confounds them with dominicans and Jesuits.
Even men of candour and intelligence (not happening to
be thoroughly informed in such matters) may be forgiven
their mistake in adopting the rash opinion of the vulgar.
when they perceive that the church of Rome, notwithstand
ing its intimate acquaintance with its own principles and
polity, and notwithstanding its inflexible purpose not to
compromise either, is now recognising Oxford professors
as good and able auxiliaries, and names them individually,
and greets them kindly, as men so right in feeling, and so
near to ' catholic truth,' as that their residue of heretical
pravity, whatever it may be, ought hardly to be thought of.
Candid and intelligent men, we say, are very likelv to
regard the immediate organs of the papal court as the best
judges of what touches so nearly the honour and expected
advancement of the Church. The Oxford writers therefore
must even submit, with a good grace, to their hard fate, while
they hear themselves on all sides spoken of, and by the
most respectable portion of their countrymen, in the same
breath with the agents of Rome, and in connexion with the
dreaded advance of the papal despotism.
• 'Romish, and Swiss, and Lutheran novelties!" Lyra Apostolica, p. 128.

PREFACE. V
There are, however, some, and perhaps it is more than a
few, who, on so critical an occasion, will take the pains to
use a nicer discrimination, and who, after having informed
themselves fully of the merits of the question, will do
these writers justice. But what will be the actual amount
of the exoneration which, by such justice, may be awarded
them ? It can only be to this effect — That, while the
Oxford Tract divines would resolutely exclude the pretended
authority of the bishop of Rome from these islands, and
would also condemn and avoid certain innovations in
worship, doctrine, or government, which may clearly be
traced to some period of the middle ages, they accept as
good, and would restore, a system, doctrinal, ritual, and
ecclesiastical, which embraces every principle, and almost
every usage characteristic of romanism — namely, the system
which Gregory the Great inherited from the illustrious
divines of the fourth century.
By explicit avowals, or implied approbation, or in the
mode of delicate allusion, these writers, in their various
publications, have at length taken to themselves every
thing in romanism which is of earlier date than the close
of the fifth century ; and they have moreover made them
selves sharers in that modern jealousy of popular instruction
which the reformation engendered in the bosom of the
papacy. How far the remaining differences between the Oxford
Tract doctrines and romanism may avail to screen the
authors of them from popular odium, or even from the
reprehension of those better informed, must depend greatly
upon the slower, or the more rapid advances of popery, in
enhancing, or in allaying the alarms of protestants : — these
fears just kept alive, the prejudice against whoever seems
to favour the dreaded evil may gather strength ; but should
the worst that any anticipate seem likely to be coming
upon us, the Oxford Tract controversy will be forgotten.

VI

PREFACE.

just as a first flourish of trumpets, which indeed shook the
air, ceases to be thought of when the thunder of batteries
is making the very earth to reel.
On the obscure question concerning the probable restora
tion of the romish superstition, and the papal ascendency,
I oiFer no opinion, partly on account of the real difficulty of
the subject, and the ambiguity of much of the evidence
ordinarily adduced by those who fear the worst ; and partly
because, at the present moment of peculiar excitement, any
opinion, how calmly soever expressed, would be open to an
interpretation involving some political and party bias, from
the suspicion of which I earnestly hope to keep myself
free. Seriously convinced as I am that what is really at stake
in this instance is not some one form of Christianity which
may be preferable to some other, but Christianity itself,
with all its blessings, temporal and eternal, as opposed to
a fatal illusion, wearing its garb, and an infernal tyranny,
wielding its terrors — thus persuaded, I would not embarrass
my argument by connecting it with any temporary
interests. While referring, however, to the so much talked of ad
vances of romanism, I must be allowed, and with a view
only to the higher bearings of the subject, to put the
question to some who, from what unconfessed motive we
will not guess, are jesting with the alarms of their fellow-
protestants, whether what they are confiding in as a more
than sufficient antagonist force for withstanding the zealous
endeavours of the romish hierarchy, be — The present unity,
purity, and spiritual vitality of protestant Christendom ; or
rather — The atheistic indifference, and the scientific and
commercial and political ' good sense ' of the mass of the
people, in these our • enlightened times ?' — If the former,
then surely it might be well to cherish, with rather more
care, the temper of love and forbearance among protes-

PREFACE. Vll
tants. — But if the latter, then one cannot but think that
this is a looking to Satan to keep out Satan — a melancholy
hope truly, between the accomplishment and the failure of
which it would be hard to choose the less horrible alter
native. On the other hand I must take leave to recommend those
who, with all the animation — not to say rancour, of political
partisanship, are stimulating the fears and passions of the
public by exaggerated statements on this subject — to in
quire, and, if possible, actually to learn, with what feelings
their zealous endeavours are regarded by certain wary ma-
chinators around us. I venture to say that, by romanist
emissaries, all such noisy proceedings are regarded with an
exultation which they find it diflficult to suppress.
While abstaining from the expression of any opinion on
this same question — the probable spread of romanism, I
must acknowledge that the recollection of it has had the
effect of inducing me to give more breadth to my argument
than it would have had if Oxford Tract doctrines alone had
been in view ; and I have found myself frequently looking
beyond the nearer objects, toward the loftier ranges of
superstition and spiritual tyranny.

Inasmuch as it is yet uncertain to what extent the en
deavour to restore monasticism and clerical celibacy will
be carried by the Oxford Tract writers, and as such endea
vours afford the only reason which should justify the
bringing so delicate a subject, in all its details, before the
general reader, I still hold in reserve the further evidence
bearing thereupon, until the motive for producing it may
have become imperative.
Stanford Rivers,
Nm. 29, 1839.

GENERAL TABLE OF CONTENTS

TWO VOLUMES AND SUPPLEMENTS.

VOL. I.

PAGE
Dedicatory Letter   v
The circmnslances of the argument  . 1
Christianity and its History  15
The dependence of the Modern Church upon the Ancient Church. . 39
A Test of the moral condition of the Ancient Church  .55
Antiquity of the opinions concerning religious celibacy  102
Connexion of the subject with the present controversy  119
statement of the argument.
The ancient celibacy a principal element of ancient Christianity . . 133
connexion of the ancient celibate with the notions enter
tained OF the divine nature.
The celibate the product of gnostic feeling. The principles of the
^iental theosophy, earlier and later : opposition of the church to the
gnostic heresies, while it imbibed the sentiment of them. The ab
stractive doctrine, and the penitential, both admitted by the ancient
church. Indications of the gnostic theosophy in Athanasius, Gre
gory Nyssen, Gregory Nazianzen, Basil, and Synesius .... 145
CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE NOTIONS ENTERTAINED OF
THE SCHEME OF SALVATION.
Combination of the Buddhist, or abstractive, and the BraminicaJ, or
penitential principles in Popery — and in the ascetic' institute of the
nicene church. The consequent exclusion of evangelical doctrines
and feelings. ' Citations from Chrysostom, Boethius, Vincenlius,. ';,
b

CONTENTS. PAGE
Origen. Panegyric memoirs and epitaphic orations. Isidore : Life
of St. Anthony by Athanasius, and eulogy of Athanasius by Na
zianzen : eulogium of Cyprian by the same. Life of Cyprian by
his deacon Pontius. Ambrose and his funeral oration on the death
'Of his brother Satyrus. Ephrem's story of the monk Abraham and
Mary. Chrysostom on the parable of the ten virgins, compared
with Macarius . . .... 

FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE QUALITY OF THE NICENE
THEOLOGY.
The choice of texts. The epistolary style of the nicene writers. The
mythic exposition of scripture, and Origen's reason for resorting to
it. Chrysostom's expositions. True and false perspective in reli-
• gion, and the admissions of the Oxford Tract writers concerning
the slender evidence of church principles. Analysis of Chrysostom's
nine homilies on repentance  227

THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CEUBACV, AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW
TESTAMENT.
The analogous instance of the rule of martyrdom. Observations on
Luke XX. 35. Import of Matt. xix. 12, illustrated by our Lord's
personal behaviour, and this compared with that of St. Martin of
Tours. Import of 1 Cor. vii. Practical comment of the nicene
monks upon the apostolic rule. Eev. xiv. 1 — 4, symbolical, not
literal  .  277

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.
1 Tim. iv. plainly applicable to the ancient ascetic institute. Illus
trations of the fulfilment of the prediction ...  299

THE EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE SANCTION IT
RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH.
Derivation of the anchoretic and monastic life : its general charac
teristics and localities. Testimonies in its favour from Methodius,
Lactantius, council of Nice, and synods of Ancyra and Neoc^sarea!
The Apostolic Constitutions. Eusebius, Athanasius, Cyril, Hilary,
Epiphanius, Basil, Gregory Naz., Ephrem, Gregory Nyss., Ambrose',
Jerome, Mark, Rufinus, Augustine, Chrysostom, and later writers . 313

CONTENTS.
THE OPPOSITION MADE TO THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM. PAGE
The extent of the opposition indifferent to the present argument. In
dications of dissent. Jovinian and VigUantius overpowered by
Jerome, Ambrose, and Augustine  333
MONKERY AND MIRACLE.
The difference between romish and nicene legends — Alban Butler and
Jerome ; life of St. Hilarion  347
MONKERY, THE RELIGION OF SOUTHERN EUROPE.
Permanent characteristics of the South of Europe. The ancient
asceticism as related to a disordered social condition . ... 352
MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AS IT AFFECTED THE
MONKS THEMSELVES.
In its principal elements the monastic life incompatible with genuine
virtue   357
THE NECESSARY OPERATION OF AN ASCETIC INSTITUTE UPON THE
MASS OF CHRISTIANS.
Arbitrary distinctions among Christians, fatal to Piety and Morals . 371
THE INDIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE MONASTIC INSTITUTE UPON THE
POSITION OF THE CLERGY.
The ascetics constituted a class to be maintained, a class contributing
to the funds of the Church, and a class to be governed  379
THE DIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE CELIBATE UPON THE CLERGY.
The progress of opinion, ending necessarily in the enforced celibacy
of the clergy. The Fathers and the Inspired Writers at issue on
|Jiis point  388
THE CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE WITH RITUAL NOTIONS
AND PRACTICES.
The nicene Sacramental doctrine the consequence of the condition of
the clerical mind, and only another expression of the ascetic prin
ciple. The taste for the marvellous, characteristic of the ascetic
life, sought its gratification in this line. The rites of the Church,
means of government. The present feeling at Rome concerning
Oxford Tract doctrines  397
Additional References and Citations  411

contents.
the visible church, according to Christ's predictions and
parables. PAGE
Relation of this inquiry to romanism and infidelity. Sermon on the
Mount. Eormalism of the Pharisees. Parable of the seed in the
field — relating to the visible church. ' Not peace but a sword.'
Christ's flesh, his doctrine. Corhan. What defileth a man. The
key of knowledge, and the tract on Reserve. Building the tombs of
the prophets. The twelve thrones. Matt. xxiv. and John xlv — xvii.
The visible and the true church. Christ's final instructions to the
Apostles, personal and official. Absolution, and modern evangelizing
zeal  417
CHURCH principles, ACCORDING TO THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES.
Historical quality of the book. The first christians contrasted with —
Sadducees, Pharisees, and Essenes. Community of goods. The
council at Jerusalem. ' Breaking of bread.' Paul's charge to the
Miletian elders  512
THE EUCHARISTIC LITURGY ATTRIBUTED TO CHRYSOSTOM  548

VOL. IL
Dedicatory Letter  ix
The Author and his Opponents  1
A GENERAL Reply to Objections, by a Re-statement of the
Question.  18
What the Question is not. — The Deference claimed for Antiquity
must be challenged on the assumed Ground of Fact, or Hy
pothesis, or Theory  28
The Question stated concerning the assumed Pact — Illustration
of the Bearing of this Question on the present Controversy . . 30
Salvian of Marseilles, his Time and Character  35
His Evidence as to the Condition of the Christian World, at the
Close of the Nicene Era  3^
His Declarations as to the universal pravity of the Church and
the general Corruption of Morals  40
The Motive of the Caution he uses as to the Monks and Clergy . 47
Comparative moral Condition of the Catholic Church, and the
heretical Barbarians  g.
State of North Africa, and Morals of the Carthaginian Church . <jr,

CONTENTS. PAGE
Romanism a Reform of Ancient Christianity  69
The Value of Salvian's Evidence  74
Inquiry as to the internal or spiritual Condition of the Nicene
Church  80
Alternative as to the Genuineness of the Evidence now to be pro
duced  82
The Standard of Piety we must appeal to  84
Ancient Religious Memoirs  •  86
The Lausiac History of Palladius  87
The Saints of this History  89
The " Ecclesiastical Almanac "  102
The Ascetic Miracles  104
The Historia Religiosa of Theodoret  115
A Comparison, on several Points, between Ancient and Modern
Piety  118
The total Absence of Evangelical Sentiments among those reckoned
the most Eminent for Sanctity in the ancient Church . ... 129
Statement of the Hypothesis on which a Religious Deference
TO Antiquity might be made to rest  137
The Hypothesis of Church Principles exemplified in the
Instance of the Ajscient Demonolatry  153
Christianised Demonolatry IN the Fourth Century .... 173
Bishop Newton's Allegations on this subject, and the Evidence to which
he appeals, from the writings of Basil  174
Ephraim Syrus— Gregory Nazianzen .... . .... 178
Gregory Nyssen . .  181
Chrysostom  191
Polytheism and Idolatry  214
The Acclamation of the Second Council of Nice  219
The General Inference, affecting the Hypothesis of Church
Principles  222

CONTENTS OF THE SUPPLEMENT TO THE FIFTH NUMBER.
Passages from Bishop Newton's Twenty-third Dissertation .... iii
The original Passages from Salvian's Treatise, De Gubernatione Dei, \
cited, or referred to in the Fifth number  vii
Citations in support of Salvian's Testunony, from Augustine, Chryso
stom, Ammianus Marcelliuus, and Cyprian  xxix

CONTENTS. PAGE
The Nicene Miracles determinative ofthe Present Controversy . • 233 242
The Unknown Martyrs of Milan  ¦ 272
The Bleeding Relics of St. Euphemia 
The Invention of the Cross, and the Miracles therewith connected . . 277
Relics of St. Stephen, Proto-Martyr ¦  316
Reasons for Rejecting the Nicene Miracles  356
Import of the Twenty-second of the Thirty-nine Articles  366

CONTENTS OF THE SUPPLEMENT TO THE SEVENTH
NUMBER.
Epistle of Ambrose to his Sister . . . . ¦ . . . . xli
A Resurrection, from Cassian  xlm
Citation from Evagrius  '^^^'^
Epistle of Paulinus to Severus  'bid.
Citation from Paulinus  xlvii
Sources of the Evidence touching the Relics of St. Stephen .... ibid.
Protestantism of the Established Church  379
Attitude of the Church of England toward the Papacy  386
Comparison of the Aaronic and Papal Hierarchies  403
The Church of England— along with the Fathers, asserts the Sole
Authority of the Canonical Scriptures  423
The Church of England rejects Ancient, as well as Romish Corruptions 469
The Liturgy— Protestant  489
CONTENTS OF THE GENERAL SUPPLEMENT.
Illustrations of the mode in which the Fathers are cited by the Com
pilers of the Formularies of the Church of England  1
Additional Evidence relating to subjects discussed in this Work . . .54
Compulsory ordination . .  ibid
The Essenes  62
The Calendar  68
Explanations and Corrections, affecting the Evidence adduced in the
course of this Work  102
The Tract writers — Cyprian and Luther — Modern Romanism —
The Ancient Celibacy — Respect due to the Fathers — Transla
tions  105
Index  139
Table of Ecclesiastical Chronology.
List of Authors and Editions cited in this Work.
General Contents ofthe two volumes and Supplement.

EDITIONS OF THE FATHERS,
AND OF SOME OTHER WRITERS, CITED IN THIS WORK.

Acta Conciiiorum (Hardouin)
12 vols. fol. Paris, 1715.
Ambrose (Benedictine) 2 vols. fol.
Paris, 1686.
Ammianus Marcellinus (Gronovius)
2 vols. fol. Leyden, 1693.
Amphilochius of Iconium, fol. Paris,
1644.
Andreas of Crete, fol. Paris, 1644.
Apostolic Constitutions. Venice,
1563.
 Fathers (Cotelerius) Bar
nabas, Clement, Herraas, Ignatius,
Polycarp, Apost. Const. &c., 2 vols.
fol. Antwerp, 1698.
Arnobius. Leipsic, 1816.
Asseman, Codex Liturgicus, 12 vols.
4to. Rome, 1749.
Asterius. Antwerp, 1615.
Athanasius, 2 vols. fol. Cologne, 1686.
Athenagoras, fol. Paris, 1615.
 Oxon. 1706.
Augustine (Benedictine) 10 vols. fol.
Venice, 1729. •
Avitus, Vienna. Paris, 1643.
Basil, 3 vols. fol. Paris, 1618.
Bernard (Mabillon) 2 vols. fol. Paris,
1690.
Boethius. Leyden, 1671.
Butler's Lives ofthe Saints, 12 vols.
Svo. London, 1824.
Cassian, fol. Paris, 1642.
Cassiodorus, 2 vols. fol. Venice,
1729.
Cave, Hist. Lit. fol. Cologne, 1720.
Chrysostom, 13 vols, small fol. Paris,
1837.
Ciampenus, Vetera Monumenta, 2
vols. fol. Rome, 1690.
Clarke's Sue. of Sacred Literature.
Clement, of Alexandria, (Heinsius)
fol. Paris, 1629.
Cotelerius. Eccles. Or. Monumenta,
2 vols. 4to. Paris, 1677.
Cyprian, fol. Bremen, 1690.
Cyril, of Jerusalem, fol. Paris, 1631.

Daille, de I'Employ des S. Pfires.
Geneva, 1632.
 , de Usu Patrum. Geneva,
1655.
Damascenus. Basle, 1575.
Dens, Theologia, 8 vols. 12mo.
Dublin, 1832.
Dion Cassias, 2 vols. fol. Hamburgh,
1750.
Dionysius [Areopagite,] fol. Paris,
1615.
Ephraem Syrus (Asseman) 6 vols.
fol. Rome, 1737.
 Oxford, 1709.
Epiphanius, 2 vols. fol. Cologne,
1682.
Erasmus, Stultitiae Laus. Basle,
1780.
Eusebius, Eccles. Hist. (Valesius)
fol. Mayence, 1672.
 Praeparatio Evan. fol. Co
logne, 1688.
 Demonstratio Evan. fol.
Cologne, 1688.
Evagrius, Eccles. Hist. (Valesius)
fol. Mayence, 1679.
Fulgentius. Nuremberg, 1519.
Gregory Nazianzen, 2 vols. fol. Co
logne, 1690.
Gregory Nyssen, 2 vols. fol. Paris,
1615.
Gregory [Pope] 3 vols. fol. Paris,
1675.
Gregory, of Tours, fol. Paris, 1512.
Hermias, fol. Paris, 1615.
Hilary, (Froben). Basle, 1550.
Hospinianus de Monachis, fol.
Geneva, 1669.
Innocent III., 2 vols. fol. Paris,
1682.
IrenaBus (Benedictine) fol. Paris,
1710.
Isidore of Pelusium, fol . Paris, 1638

editions of the fathers.

Jerome. (Erasmus) 3 vols. fo). Ham
burg, 1684.
Josephus (Havercamp) 2 vols. fo).
Amsterdam, 1726.
Ju)ian and Cyril). Alex. fol. Leipsic,
1696.
Justin Martyr (Stephens) fol. Paris,
1551.
 fol. Paris, 1615.
Lactantius. Oxford, 1684.
Lardner's Works, 10 vols. Svo. Lon
don, 1827.
Macarius. Leipsic, 1650.
Matter, Hist. Crit. du Gnosticisme,
2 vols. Paris, 1828.
Maxentius. Nuremburg, 1519.
Methodius, fol. Paris, 1644.
Minucius Felix. Cambridge, 1707.
Mosheim, de rebus Christ. Helm-
stadt, 1753.
Nicephorus. Eccles. Hist. 2 vols. fo).
Paris, 1730.
Nilus (Epist.) fol. Rome, 1668.
 Opera quaedam. Paris, 1639.
Novatian. Oxford, 1724.
Origen (Benedictine) 4 vols. fol.
Paris, 1733.
Palladius (Aldus). Paris, 1555.
 Leyilen, 1616.
Paulinus. Antwerp, 1622.
Philo, fol. Paris, 1640.
P)ii)ostorgius (Valesius) fol. Mayence,
1679.

Photius (Stephens) fo). Pa™.
P)iny, Nat. Hist. 12 vols. Svo. Lon
don, 1826.
Porphyry, de Abstinentia. Utrecht,
1767.
Raymond, IVfartin — Pugio Fidei, fol.
Paris, 1651.
Robinson's Biblical Researches in
Palestine, 3 vols. Svo. London,
ed. 1841.
Routh's Reliquae Sacrae, 3 vols. Svo.
Sale's Kbran, 2 vols. Svo. Bath,
1795.
Salvian (Rittershusiu.?) Altorf,16U.
Socrates. Eccles. Hist. (Valesius)
Mayence, 1677.
Sozomen. Eccles. Hist. Mayence,
1677.
Strabo. Amsterdam, 1707.
Suicer, Thesaurus Eccles. folio.
Utrecht, 1746.
Sulpitius Severus. Leipsic, 1709.
Synesius, fol. Paris, 1631.
Tatian, fol. Paris, 1615.
Tatian and Hermias. Oxon, 1700.
TertuUian, fol. Paris, 1641.
Theodoret, 5 vols. Svo. Halle, 1769.
Theodoret, Eccles. Hist (Valesius) ,
fol. Mayence, 1679.
Theophilus [of Antioch] fol. Paris,
1615.
Thesaurus Patrum, 8 vols. Svo. Paris,
1823.

TABLE

ECCLESIASTICAL CHRONOLOGY,
FROM THE ASCENSION
TO THE MIDDLE OF THE FIFTH CENTURY.

Apostolic iSra.

A.D,

SECULAR PERSONS.

ECCLESIASTICAL PERSONS and events.

30

Tiberius.

Pentecost, a.d. 34.

40

Caligula.Claudius.Expedition to Britain.
Cusplus Fadus.

Philo attends a deputation from the Jews of
Alexandria to Rome.

50

Ventidius Cumanus.
Neko. Felix.

Council at Jerusalem.

fiO70

Porcius Festus,
Albinus. — Florua. — Rome
burned.— Jewish War. —
Josephus, Governor of Ga
lilee.— Cestius Gallus.—
Galba,— Othc— VlTEL-
Lius. — Vespasian., — Je
rusalem destroyedby Titus.

The Epistle of James written.
Martyrdom of James, Bishop of Jerusalem.
Christians suffer at Rome, according to Taciius.
Epistle of Peter written.
Martyrdom of Paul and Peter at Rome.
The Epistles of John written.

80

Titus.Dqmitian.

90

The Christians suffer under Domitian.

Nerva.

The Apocalypse and Gospel of John written.

Thajan.
Clement, Bishop of Rome.
ECCLESIASTICAL CHRONOLOGY.

iSra of ISe Apostolic jfatfftv^, antr otscure ^ci'iotr of

SECULAR PERSONS.

Tuajan — continued.
PJiny the Younger.

Adrian.

Jerusalem rebuilt.
Jews banished.

Antoninus Pius

ECCLESIASTICAL PERSONS and events.

The Christians suffer in Bithynia.
Ignatius, Bp. of Antioch, suffered about a.d. 107.

M Aurelius & L. Verus,

COMMODUS,

Pertinax.
Severus.

Justin Martvr presented his first Apology,
about A.D. 148.

Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, visited Rome;
suffered about a.d. 167.

The Christians suffer.
Martyrdom of Polycarp.
Justin Martyr suffered at Rome, about a.d. 165.
Hermias wrote about a.d. 170.— Dionysius of
Corinth.
Hegesippus, earliest Ecclesiastical Historian
(not extant.)
Tatian. — Athenagoras.
Theophilus, Bishop of Antioch.
iRENJEUs, Bishop of Lyons : died about a.d. 202.

Clement of Alexandria : died about a.d. 218.

I'CCLDSIASTICAL CHRONOLOGY.

iSra of tje gitrugglc iiettoecn CiDvistiauits antJ paganism.

SECULAR PERSONS.

ECCLESIASTICAL PERSONS and events.

Severus — continued.

Caracalla and Geta.

Macrinus.Heliogabalus.

Alexander Severus.

Maximinus.Gordian.

Gallus. Valerian.

Claudius.
AureliaK.
Tacitus. — Pb obus.
Caros. Dioclesian and Maxi-

The Christians suffer.
Minucius Felix.
Tertullian. Origen ; born a.d. 185, died a.d. 254.

C0NSTANTIUS& Galerius.
Constantine &: LiciNius.

The Christians suffer.

Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage.
Tlie Christians suffer severely.
Martyrdom of Cyprian, a.d. 25S.
Christianity a " religio licita."
Dionysius, Bishop of Alexandria.

Gregoky Thaumaturgus, Bp. of Neoceesarea
The Christians suffer. _

The Christians suffer.

Arnobius: died about a.d. 325,
Cessation of Pagan persecutions within the
Roman Empire. — Edict of Milan.
Lactantius: died 325.
Eusebius, Bishop of Ctesarea
Constantino favours Christianity.
Christianity fully tolerated and recognised.

ECCLESIASTICAL CHRONOLOGY.

iSra of t^e J^oUiital mctttHmcn of tl&e €1&urc8^tfie

SECULAR PERSONS.

CONSTANTINE II.
CONSTANS & CONSTANTIUS.

Julian.
Jovian. Valentinian.
Gratian.Valentinian II.
Valens.
Theodosius. *

HoNORius and Arcadius.
Alaric.
Theodosius II.
Valentinian III.

ECCLESIASTICAL PERSONS and events.

The Christians suffer in Persia.
The Orthodox suffer from the Arians.
Athanasius, Bp. of Alexandria: died a.d. 373.

Heathens called "Pagans."
Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers.
Christianity oppressed. '

Basil, Bishop of Caesarea, in Cappadocia.
Gothic Version of the Scriptures.
Ephraim, the Syrian.
CxRiLL, Bishop of Jerusalem, died a.d. 386.
Gregory, Nazianzen: died about a.d. 390.
Gregory Nyssen : died about a.d. 395.
Ambrose, Archbishop of Milan a.d. 374: died
about A.D. 397.
SiRicius, Bishop of Rome.
Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis : died a.d. 403.
Chrysostom, Bp. of Constantinople, a.d. 398:
died A.D. 407.
Ruffin, Presb. of Aquileia: died a d. 410.
Innocent I. Bishop of Rome : died a.d. 417.
Jerome : died a.d. 420.
Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, a.d. 395 : died
A.D. 430.
Synesius, Bishop of Ptolemais.
Paulinus, Bishop of Nola.
Cyrill, Bishop of Alexandria : died a.d. 444.
Vincent of Lerins. Isidore of Pelusium.
Salvian of Marseilles: wrote a.d. 440 died
A.D. 480.

TO THE VENERABLE

THOMAS BEWLEY MONSELL,

ARCHDEACON OF DERRY,

AND PRECENTOR OF CHRIST'S CHURCH, DUBLIN

My Deak Sie ;
I am already assured of your approval,
¦which has been so kindly and warmly expressed, of my inten
tion to take part in the discussions set on foot by the writers
of the Tracts for the Times ; but I am desirous to bespeak
also your acquiescence in the particular course of inquiry which,
in this first instance, I have thought it best to institute, and
which may not be precisely what you would have anticipated.
I have, in fact, taken as my motto on this occasion, the
advice — Festina lente ; and if I appear to have gone about,
am yet persuaded that I am following a path which promises to
lead to a satisfactory, and not very remote conclusion. But I
will state, as briefly as possible, the general views that have
guided me in selecting the subjects, and in arranging the plan
of my argument. —
Let me say then, that the mode of repelling the pretensions
of the Papacy, recommended by the writers of the Oxford
Tracts, seems to me to be at once legitimate and conclusive :
it is, in fact, an appeal from the alleged authority of the romish
church, to a catholicity more catholic, and to an antiquity more

VI DEDICATOKY

ancient. On this gTound, British protestantism, or, let us say,
if the phrase be preferred, British Christianity, stands on a rock,
clear of all exception, and, so far as related to popery, is exempt
from peril. Within the well-defined limits which it observes,
this line of argument is equally simple and irrefragable.
But having, in this manner, made good the external defences
of the British episcopal church, when we come to look within
the enclosure which we have thus walled about, we are met by
startling difficulties, of another kind, and are compelled to
confess that, in thus throwing ©urselves back upon christian ,
antiquity, embarrassments attend us from which there appears
no easy way of escape.
Men of calm minds are indeed painfully conscious of per
plexity, while treading the fields of ancient christian literature ;
and to this feeling is added some alarm when they witness the
fatal infatuations which beset those who loiter there after .sur
rendering themselves to the guidance of a fond antiquarian
enthusiasm ; for such are often seen to yield their faith and
reason to illusions that are not merely unsubstantial, but in the
last degree dangerous. In truth, no notions that have ever
prevailed among well-informed men, can have been more utterly
destitute of firm support than are those which have been so
long adhered to in relation to the pristine church ; nor have
any been much more fruitful sources of theological, ecclesias
tical, and ethical errors.
The peculiar difficulties that attend the general subject of
ecclesiastical antiquity, are not however obtruded upon notice
during quiescent periods ; and, as the documents vrherein this
species of lore is embedded, are accessible to few, and familiar
to still fewer, as well the various instruction with which they
are fraught, as the serious evils they may generate, often remain
latent for a long course of years ; nor do the latter ordinarily
demand any vigilant regard.
But it is otherwise at particular moments, when the dormant
antiquarian zeal suddenly awakening, claims a right of inter
ference with every thing that is professed, believed, and done.

LETTJiH. VU
in the open and active world. And if, at such a moment, this
zeal, sharpened by the austere prejudices that are its usual
characteristics, and animated — perhaps inflamed, by the illu
sions which it engenders, takes a bold course, and implicates
the religious and civil institutions of the country, there are no
limits hardly to the perils to which every thing around us is
immediately exposed.
This seems to me precisely what the writers of the Oxford
Tracts are now, with the best intentions, and with the most
devoted attachment to the episcopal church, actually doing :
that is to say, they are fearlessly staking the credit, and even
the very existence of the established church, upon the sound
ness of notions, regarding ancient Christianity^, which will not
endure an impartial examination ; nay, which are miserably
contradicted by an abundance of unimpeachable evidence.
There is surely reason enough then, for those who rank
themselves with the friends of the established episcopal church,
to take the alarm, and to follow closely the steps of these
chivalrous divines. It is possible indeed, and not unlikely,
that the ground at first assumed by these writers may insen
sibly be shifted ; and that, finding their early assumptions to
be untenable, they may move off' to a better chosen position.
But even if it should be so, the necessity would not be the
less urgent for exploring that first chosen ground. In a word,
the time is now manifestly come when the christian com
munity, at large, must be thoroughly informed concerning the
spiritual and the moral condition of the church during that
morning hour of its existence, which, too easily alas ! has been
surrounded with attributes of celestial splendour, dignity, and
purity. To collect and diflfuse this now indispensable information,
is then the task I have undertaken ; yet neither a very easy
one, it must be granted, nor devoid of an invidious aspect.
The dissipating of fond dreams may be a friendly and useful,
but is seldom an acceptable office. No one, I presume, will
imagine that there remain to be adduced facts, not already

Vlli DEDICATORY
well known to those who are conversant with the original
documents of ecclesiastical antiquity ; but it is nevertheless
certain, and the course of the present controversy has strikingly
shown it to be so, that what is familiar to a few, may be alto
gether unsurmised by the mass, even of well-informed persons.
Our modern church histories scarcely lift a corner of the veil
that hides from us the recesses of the ancient church ; and the
fathers may be looked into, here and there, without a suspicion
being awakened of a state of things which a more searching
examination brings to light.
In commencing then these necessary researches, the imme
diate intention of which is not so much to controvert the
particular principles or practices now under discussion, as to
lay open the real condition, moral, spiritual, and ecclesiastical,
of the ancient church, I have selected that one theme which,
as I am fully persuaded, is better adapted than any other to
answer the purpose of dissipating many illusions, and of
generating a feeling of caution in the minds of those who may
just have given in, or may be on the point of giving in, their
adherence to the Oxford Tract doctrines. Such, and I believe
the number is now not small, I would respectfully advise to
su.spend, a little, their judgment on the questions in hand,
until they may have considered the evidence which may appear
to bear on the question.
As to yourself, my dear sir, you will not imagine that I am
presuming to inform you of what you are not already acquainted
with; and yet it is possible that the light in which I have
placed some of these well-known facts, may seem to you new,
and such as to deserve your regard. You will perceive that,
while a single class of objects is before me, I have kept a
double purpose always in view, namely, in the first instance,
to loosen a little that antiquarian enthusiasm which is putting
every thing dear to us in peril ; and, in the second place, to
open a path whereon, as I think, a fresh assault may be made
upon the errors of the papacy.
As a preliminary to the general argument, I have taken

LETTEE. IX
some pains to define and affirni, what some too much overlook
— the dependence of the modern church upon the ancient
church, lest, in lessening a little the credit of the latter, I
should seem to favour an ultra-protestant prejudice, the preva
lence of which has, in fact, afforded a handle to the Oxford
Tract writers.
And now, my dear sir, will you indulge me a moment while
I make good my personal plea to be listened to in the present
controversy ? — It will be granted then that, whatever course
this wide discussion may take, it has, in all its branches, so
intimate a connexion with ecclesiastical antiquity, as that it
must, for the most part, be left in the hands of those who have
happened to acquire some familiarity with this branch of learn
ing, and who, moreover, possess the indispensable advantage
of actually having, under their hands, the body of ancient
ecclesiastical literature. But these conditions confine, within
rather narrow limits, the choice which the religious public
might make (among those already known to it as writers) of
any to stand forward as qualified to deal with the general
subject. Then again, among such, few as they may be, some
have already ranged themselves on the side of the Oxford Tract
writers ; and some, perhaps, who have not done so, would admit
themselves to be altogether disinclined to the task of dealing
severely, with their favourite authors.
On these grounds then, as actually possessing the Greek and
Latin church writers, and as being, in some degree, used to
their company ; and moreover, as exempt, in the most complete
manner, from antiquarian enthusiasm, I have felt as if I might,
without culpable presumption, take a part in the great contro
versy of the day.
And further, as this controversy affects, in a peculiar
manner, the welfare of the established episcopal church, it
seems as if it should be demanded of those who engage in it,
that they can profess a firm conviction in favour of the prin
ciple of religious establishments, and of episcopacy ; as well as
a cordial approval of liturgical worship, and specifically, of

DEDICATORY

that of the established church. On this ground then, ray
deliberate opinions are such as to allow of my fairly entering
the lists.
There is however yet a ground on which I feel that some
advantage, in relation to such a controversy, belongs to me;
and it is the circumstance of my personal independence of the
established church, and of my entire exemption from the influ
ence of any indirect motive for thinking, or for professing, thus
or thus, in any question affecting its credit and welfare. As a
layman, I have no secular interests whatever at stake in ecclesi
astical questions : I have nothing but truth to care for. And,
moreover, my actual connexion, by education, and otherwise,
with dissenters, may be accepted as giving to my decisive
opinion in favour of the established church, the value, whether
more or less, that may attach to principles which have resulted
altogether from serious reflection. And I will here take leave
to remind you, that, in declaring myself some years ago, on
this side, I did so with a freedom of remark, in regard to the
church, which precluded my winning any favour from its more
rigid adherents, or accredited champions. In fact, and I
hope you will allow me on this occasion to make the profession,
my convictions, on this subject, have been so powerful, as to
lead me to put out of view every personal and secondary
consideration. None will imagine, my dear sir, that, in addressing these
pages to you, I have in any way compromised your personal,
or professional character, or involved you in any sort of
responsibility, in regard to what they may contain. All the
burden rests on my own shoulders. You are clear ; and while
I am much gratified in being able to refer to the expressions
with which, from time to time, you have honoured me, of your
christian regard and friendship, I am anxious to preclude the
supposition that you have done any thing more than generally
approve of my purpose to engage in the present discussion, and
to express your confidence in the soundness of my principles,
and the rectitude of my intentions.

LETTEE.

It now only remains for me to disclaim every hostile or
acrimonious feeling towards the accomplished, and, I have no
doubt, thoroughly sincere writers of the Tracts for the Times.
If compelled to range myself among their opponents, I owe
them no grudge ; and am very ready to admit the importance
of the services they have rendered to the church, in reviving
some hitherto slighted principles ; and particularly, in bearing
a testimony, with great ability, against modern rationalism.
I admire moreover, and would fain imitate, the mild and
christian temper in which, for the most part, they write ; and
should deeply regret the inadvertence, should it appear that,
in any instance, I have allowed an expression to escape me,
that might seem to carry an uncourteous and personal meaning,
or to be more pungent than the serious import of the argu
ment would have demanded.
It is true that I have a very deep impression of the mischiefs
and dangers attending, or likely to arise from, the diffusion
of the principles which these divines are so zealously, and, as it
appears, so successfully advocating ; and this conviction must
be held to justify the most determined style of opposition. In
this however there is no breach of christian charity. The
writers must be accounted sincere and devout, although it
should appear that they will have involved the church, and the
country, in the most serious dangers. The spread of these
doctrines is in fact now having the effect of rendering all other
distinctions obsolete, and of severing the religious community
into two portions, fundamentally and vehemently opposed, one
to the other. Soon there will be no middle ground left ; and
every man, and especially every clergyman, will be compelled
to make his choice between the two. What practical decision
can be more momentous, or demand more deliberation and
research .''
I indulge the hope then, my dear sir, that I shall be able to
afford some aid to those, especially among the younger clergy,
who may actually be halting between the two opinions ; and
I well know that, while giving myself to my laborious task,

DEDICATORY LETTEE.

I shall have the benefit of your cordial good wishes, and
prayers, that that aid and blessing may be afforded me, apart
from which, no endeavours can be fruitful of good.
It is, my dear sir, with every sentiment of respect and
esteem, that I subscribe myself yours,
THE AUTHOK.

Stanford Rivers,
Feb. 20, 1839.

No. l.j [Price 2s. Qd.

ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY,

&c. &c.

The great questions agitated, but not determined, three hundred
years ago, are now coming on to he discussed, and under circum
stances as auspicious altogether, as they were lately unexpected.
The reproach of the reformation, that it did not fully ascertain
its own principles, as well as the opprobrium of the church in
later times, that little or nothing has been amended since Luther,
Cranmer, and Knox went to their rest, are now, at last, not
unlikely to be removed.
While many are looking with terror at the unchecked spread
of romanism around the english church, and with alarm at the
prevalence of opinions within its most sacred precincts which
contravene the labours of the reformers, there is room to admit
a very different feeling in relation to these signs of the times,
even a feeling of exhilaration and hope as to the probable result,
as well of the busy zeal of the romish clergy, as of the con
scientious labours of the authors and favourers of the ' Tracts
for the Times.' I must profess to regard the former, as well
as the latter of these features of our religious condition, when
looked at in their remoter, though not distant tendencies, as
indicative of good, and such as should awaken to a new activity
all who are piously waiting for the renovation of the influence of
chi'istianity.

" ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
And yet, in making this cheering profession, it ought to be
acknowledged, lest we should seem to be concealing what it is
neither candid nor safe to deny, that there are consequences not'
very unlikely to be attached to the Oxford Tract controversj
which, in their bearing upon the peculiar position of the esta
blished church at the present moment, may well excite anxiety
in the minds of its friends ; and indeed in the minds of all who
acknov/ledge that an intimate connexion subsists between the
welfare of the established church, and the very existence of our
most cherished civil institutions. It is not surely to pretend to
any extraordinary sagacity to afSrm that some of the questions
moved by the writers we refer to, affect, not very circuitously,
the constitutional influence of the aristocracy, and even the
stability of the throne.
Great revolutions, as has been said of some other formidable
abstractions, are wont to advance upon us in noiseless slippers,
and, taking their rise from some quarter which was the last to be
watched or suspected, amaze the heedless community as much
with their terrible suddenness, as with their destructive force.
This at least must be admitted by all, that the general scheme of
principles and sentiments embodied in the publications referred
to, recommends itself by a depth, a latent power, a momentum,
and a consistency in its development, which are the very charac
teristics of movements that are to go on, and to bring with them
great changes, whether for the better or the worse. Really to
despise the system, is, I think, very inconsiderate, and to affect
to despise it, very dangerous.
The political condition of the country being such as it is
and teeming as it does with elements of disorder, there are
many, no doubt, who would most gladly remand, to some more
convenient season, the agitation of ecclesiastical doctrines which
touch the solid structure of the constitution. This desire of
tranquillity may be reasonable enough in itself; but it is
unavailing, or it comes too late. Very many minds, and those
not of the populace, or of the ill-informed middle classes, but of
the best taught and the best tramed, and of those whose secular
interests are the most weighty, have already been deeply moved,
and are as unwilling to be left to subside into their former state

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ARGUMENT. 3
of indolent acquiescence, "as those who have so wrought upon
them are disinclined to remit their labours. What event, in
fact, can be more improbable, than that men whose success in
producing this deep commotion has surpassed their own fondest
expectations, should spontaneously relax their exertions, or
should begin to despond midway in a triumphant course ?
Nothing remains then, whatever perils may impend, but for
those who range themselves on an opposite side, to encounter
their accomplished, and flushed antagoiusts in the best manner
they are able.
Yet even if it were at the option of any who might wish to do
so, to hush, at this particular moment, the controversy which is
gathering around us — or even if it might be thought probable
that, left to itself, this dreaded system would share the fate of
many a portentous wonder that has quietly sunk into oblivion —
even in such a case, a true prudence might rather impel us to
promote than to check the rising agitation, and to desire that,
once set fairly in movement, as it now is, the question of those
first principles, apart from the adjustment of which our english
protestantism has remained weak in itself, and vulnerable on
every side, should be brought to a close without delay : — and
better now, than in some darker hour, when political commotions
of a still deeper kind than those which at present disturb the
country, would at once greatly enhance the perils inseparable
from such a controversy, and, in an equal degree, diminish the
probability of bringing it to a happy issue.
The cry of ' Popery !' raised by certain of the opponents of
the Oxford Tract doctrines, even if it might consist with candour,
does not indicate an exact discrimination. Nevertheless, and
although the attempt to confound these doctrines with romanism,
or to disparage them, unheard, by an implication in the same
obloquy, and thus to use an unfair advantage, drawn from popular
prejudices, is to be condemned and avoided, yet it is certain
that, in argumentative order, these principles and opinions must
take the lead, as standing first to be considered, when we have
the romish errors in view ; and that the question of romanism
must follow in the track ofihe present controversy.
In truth, modern popery will never be dealt with to any good
B 2

4 ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
purpose, on the ground of argument, until the preliminary dis
cussion induced by the Tracts for the Times, has been disposed
of to the satisfaction, not perhaps of the immediate disputants,
but of aU honest and intelligent bystanders.
I have used the words— controversy— argument, and discus
sion, correlatives as they are, and implying two or more parties,
visibly in conflict ; and yet, in the present instance, while, on
the one side, the champions stand forward as a compact band,
it is not easy to say who are their actual opponents. To confess
the truth, the writers of the Tracts for the Times are looking
over the field, as if asking for those with whom they might
engage. Several able writers have indeed come forward in this
controversy ; but yet, as it seems, there are reasons why their
opposition should be reckoned at rather less than, intrinsically, it
may be worth.
It appears that a degree of disadvantage attaches to each of
the accredited religious parties among us, to whom it is natural
to look, as the opponents of the Oxford Tract divines. These
incidental difficulties constitute, in fact, an ominous circumstance
of the present theological crisis. What I mean precisely is this —
that, whatever we may privately surmise concerning the unsound
ness of the principles assumed in this system, yet that- those
who maintain it, accomplished and well skiDed in argument as
they are, when they come to coiifront any one of our religious
parties, manifestly possess, from incidental causes, a vantage
ground, as related to that single class of antagonists ; and so of
each in its turn.
To name first those who must be regarded as standing fore
most — and the description belongs to a large, and every way
considerable body in the established church, who, professing the
most cordial and unexceptive approbation of the church, as it is,
in its constitution, its ritual, and its position as related to the
state, and who are accustomed to admire the fathers of the
english reformation on no account more than on that of their
wisdom in carrying amendment just to the point where it
actually stopped, and no further, and who deprecate any sort
of movement or agitation, tending to change — these well con
tented church -of.. England men, when they come to deal in

CIRCUMSTANCES OE THE ARGUMENT. U
detail, with the Oxford Tract opinions, may, without much
difficulty, be compelled to confess, first, that the church, as
settled by Edward VI. and Elizabeth, favours some principles
that were not fully carried out, either in its offices, or in its
discipline and working ; and secondly, that the church, or the
coimtry, or both, has been slowly and imperceptibly moving
forward (some will say downward) from the ground whereon it
was reared by its founders, and that, to employ the favourite
phrase of the Oxford Tracts, we, of the present day, have become
' far more protestant,' than were the english protestants of
the sixteenth century. Upon men of this party therefore the
Oxford Tract writers urge nothing but what consistency seems
to demand.
Nor can such an appeal be otherwise resisted by the parties
in question, than by a hardy determination to hear nothing
which might trouble the present peace of the church. In fact,
as it seems, numbers belonging to the party now referred to
have given in their submission to the Oxford leaders, and appear
to wait only the aid of a little more concurrence from others, to
promote openly, what they favour silently.
Consisting often of the very same individuals, and yet needing
to be distinguished in regard to our present object, is the body
which stands foremost in upholding, and approving of, the
POLITICAL constitution of the church, and which is more con
cerned (or seemingly so) for the establishment, than it is for the
church, and is zealous for episcopacy, on behalf of prelacy, and
is prepared (unless we do them an injustice in so presuming to
divine their dispositions) to admit certain changes which might
even compromise a little the more spiritual principles of the
church, were it manifest that such alterations would tend to
strengthen the stakes, and to lengthen the cords of the hierar
chical tabernacle.
Between men of this temper, and the writers of the Tracts
for the Times, there Is a fundamental, and it might be added, an
ominous discordance, as well of feehng as of principles. This
discrepancy, although for the present it may be hushed by the
discreet, cannot but become more and more notorious ; nor is it
easy to see by what practical expedients the serious consequences

G ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
it involves are to be evaded. This difference, although men may
not be wilfing to allow it, is nothing less than a rift in the founda
tions of the ecclesiastical structure : it is a settlement, more narrowly
to be looked to, than might be the broken windows and shattered
ornaments that should mark some rude assault of the mob
from without.
It is not merely that the authors and promoters of the Oxford
Tract divinity are generally men of a more serious temper, and
possessed of better digested notions, and are of more rehgious
habits than their opponents (of the class now referred to) and
are better prepared to sustain any consequences which their
consistency may entail upon them, and are therefore stronger,
by a settled courage and a calm forethought of trouble ; but they
have possessed themselves of lofty principles, in comparison of
which the compromising, secular, and heartless maxims of
political churchmen will prove but as stubble.
These — that is to say, the merely political adherents of the
ESTABLISHMENT, who admire, not so much the tenderness of our
english reformers towards popery, as their obsequious discretion
in regard to the Tudors, and who, as chUdren of this world, look
upon the trammels of church subserviency, as trappings of
honour — these persons now find themselves suddenly placed in
an unexpected position of embarrassment ; or rather, their actual
position has been laid bare, with little ceremony, on the very side
where they might most wish to avoid exposure. And by whom has
this exposure been attempted ? Not by sour puritans, or reckless
leveUers ; not by the vulgar and the fanatical ; not by the pro
fessed enemies of the church, of whatever class, and with any of
whom it might have been easy to deal, in the wonted modes of
haughty vituperation ; or who need not have been listened to at
all, so long as they coidd have been outvoted. Such are not, at
present, the troublers of the peace of the hierarchy ; but they are
men whose accomplishments as divines, and whose unquestioned
attachment to the episcopal church, not merely exempt them
from contempt or suspicion, but secure for them, and for what
ever they may write, the respectful attention of all portions of the
clergy, and of those among the laity whose opinions can, in such
a case, have weight. Or if any thing were yet wanting to secure

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ARGUMENT. ^
an advantage which the one side might desire, and which the
other might fear to see possessed by their opponents, these new
champions of church supremacy actually enjoy it, namely- — official
influence, and the means of moulding the temper of the younger
clergy to their will.
As opposed to men thus advantageously placed, and thus fur
nished — men girding themselves to act the part of confessors,
political churchmen, whether whigs or tories, cannot but feel their
weakness. Dangerous concessions were made, and compromises
submitted lo by the fathers of the english church, under the
despotism of the Tudors ; and these very errors (unavoidable,
perhaps) are now become the untoward inheritance of the cham
pions of the protestant estabhshment. Such, therefore, can wish
for nothing so much as silence ; for in serious controversy, when
ever it may come on, overthrow awaits them ; and it is a cir
cumstance which none ought to lose sight of, that how little soever
the declared enemies of the established church may themselves
personally rehsh the doctrines of the Oxford Tracts, their instinc
tive sympathies would coalesce with these writers, if seen to be
contending for a refigious principle, with the secular minded and
political champions of the establishment. Obvious motives, too,
would operate, impelling aU to cheer and aid these bold and
learned impugners of church-and-state subserviency.
But it is natural to look to another quarter in search of those
who might come forward to withstand the advances of the Oxford
Tract doctrines ; and may it be to that, in every sense, estimable
portion of the clergy which has conventionally been designated—
evangelical ? It is true that the modern disciples and successors
of Romaine, Fletcher, Milner, Venn, Cecil, Scott, and Newton,
have, by the current of affairs, been carried toward a new position,
and have been led to modify and to tighten the ecclesiastical
notions professed by their departed leaders. They nevertheless
still hold to opinions, and to modes of feehng, which, though as
a matter of fact springing up within the established church, are
not, altogether, its genuine products ; but in part resulted from
the religious animation diffused through the country by the
apostolic labours of Wesley, Whitfield, and their foUowers ; nor
can it well be denied that those who have professed these opinions,

8 ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
and who have felt in this manner, have stood, as churchmen, in
a position of argumentative difficulty, and of some practical
embarrassment. If this be the case, or just so far as it may be granted to be so,
it cannot seem desirable to the evangelical clergy to be forced
into any formal argument with their accomplished brethren, on
.the very points that have driven some of their most distinguished
predecessors, and of themselves, to the edge of nonconformity.
They may, by the aid of considerations, drawn from the perils of
the time, have come to believe that they disaffect nothing in the
ritual or constitution of the church ; and they may be fully satis
fied with this or that elaborate explanation of certain difficulties ;
nevertheless the uneasiness, although assuaged, is not altogether
removed ; and it is likely to be revived whenever certain points
of principle and discipfine come, as now, to be insisted upon,
expounded, and carried out to their consequences.
What the english reformers had in view was — Ante-Nicene
Christianity, or the doctrine, discipline, and ritual of the times
nearly preceding the period of that council ; and so far as the
altered condition of the social body aUowed them to foUow their
convictions, they realized their idea, and probably would have
done so to the extent of a close imitation of all but the offensive
features of that system. But how different a notion of Christianity
was that which animated the zeal of either the founders of me-
thodism, or of the fathers of the evangelical clergy ! Holding to
the same orthodoxy — the same athanasian doctrine, almost every
thing else in the two systems stands out as a point of distinction.
Wliat parallels could be more incongruous than such as one
might strive to institute, for instance, between Cyprian and
Romaine, TertuUian and Milner, Chrysostom and Cecil, Augustine
and Scott, Jerome and Newton !
The evangelical clergy, as christian muiisters, and as tlieo-
logians, when they stand on open ground, may indeed freely and
with much advantage contend against what they may deem super
stitious or papistical in the system of the Oxford Tract writers :
but how far they can do so, as churchmen, is doubtful.
Or, leaving doctrine and ritual out ofthe question, and looking
solely to the topic of church supremacy or subserviency, in relation

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ARGUMENT. 9
to the state, the evangelical clergy cannot but feel the discussion
to be imdesirable ; for it is they, more than any others, that must
be painfully conscious of what has been the ill practical influence
of the usurpations that were submitted to, as by dire necessity,
on the part of the founders of the establishment. So it happens
that, in resisting what they regard as the superstitions of the
Oxford Tract divines, if driven back, they are driven upon puri-
tanism ; whOe, in withstanding the church-supremacy doctrine,
their retreat, if defeated, can only be toward, either the swamps
of political expediency, or the levels of dissent. It is with every
sentiment of respect and affection toward this portion of the
clergy, that I state what seems to me the fact of their difficult
position in regard to the present controversy : and I do so for the
«ake of precluding the faUacious hope that the now spreading
opinions are to be withstood, much less overthrown, by those who
occupy this particular ground.
It is perhaps unnecessary to insist upon the improbability that
any class of dissenters should engage in the controversy with the
writers of the Tracts for the Times. Dissenters have had their
advantage, and have reaped their glory, in contending for our
refigious liberties ; and moreover they have found points of easy
attack in assailing the loose opinions of political churchmen ; they
may also have won partial triumphs, in urging the argument of
consistency against the more serious clergy ; but they would fuid
themselves, as I am incfined to think, to be deahng altogether
with another sort of adversary, were they to close in with the
Oxford Tract divines upon certain questions now agitated. The
time undoubtedly must come, and the increasing learning and
inteUigence (and candour too, it is hoped) of the dissenting bodies,
tend to hasten its approach, when the assumptions on which the
modern congregational system rests, will be sifted anew, and
brought to the test of scripture. But a controversy with the
writers of the Oxford Tracts could not fail to bring on such a
scrutiny under circumstances which would render a defeat pecu
liarly mortifying. These astute and accomplished men — the
Oxford Tract writers, clearly rid, as they are, of some embarrass
ments that have encumbered less consistent churchmen (with
whom, heretofore, dissenters have had to do) would, in rebutting

10 ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
the arguments of congregationalists, find themselves free to take
up aggressive weapons, and might bring the ecclesiastical axioms
of dissent into question, in a manner not to be desired by its
adherents. Moreover, it is clear that the various, but intimately connected
subjects, theological and ecclesiastical, at this time fikely to be
discussed, all come under the common condition of involving
laborious researches upon the fleld of christian antiquity. But
this is a field not much frequented, in our own times, by non
conformists, of any class. It is but a few individuals, of these
communions, that profess much acquaintance vrith the greek and
latin divines ; nor do the tastes of the dissenting bodies favour
any reference to them.
And yet, granting that, when we have to consider the safety
and instruction of the uninformed religious classes, in relation to
any prevafiing errors, the best method is that of a simple adhe
rence to the biblical branch Of the argument ; it is perfectly clear
that, when we are turning to those who are themselves to be the
sources of instruction, and the guides of the ignorant, theological
discussions must include a much wider range of inquiry ; and as
to questions such as those with which, in the present instance, we
have to do, there can be but one course likely to lead to a final
adjustment of the points in dispute ; and this only course must
embrace a patient examination of the entire body of ancient
christian literature, so far as now extant. Any method more
summary, specious as it may seem, wfll, as I venture to predict,
produce only a momentary impression, and will leave us fiable to
a speedy return of the very same controversies. But if the great
argument be courageously encountered at the first, and entered
upon with an immovable determination to spare no toil, to evade
no difficulty, and to carry the torch of modern intelligence, and
modern biblical feehng, into the most intricate recesses of ancient
Christianity, there is a reasonable hope that, under the divine
blessing, a real and permanent progress may be made in the mo
mentous work of fi'eeing our holy religion, effectually and finally,
from the corruptions of many centuries.
There are some however who are telling us, and it must be
granted, not without an appearance of reason, that our notions of

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ARGUMENT. 11
the importance of the present controversy are vastly exaggerated,
and that therefore no such laborious courses of argument as those
I am now indicating, can be necessary ; and on the contrary it is
affirmed that, left to itself, this new portent, hke many equally
alarming, wfll quickly disappear from our skies. It is indignantly
asked — if we are to be disquieted in this degree, and to be moved
from our places, at the bidding of a band of recluses, who, ac
complished as they may be in worthless lore, and respectable and
estimable perhaps, as christians, or as clergymen, have yet shown
themselves so feeble in understanding as to bow to the frivolous
superstitions of the darkest times. Are we, it is asked, to be led
by those who suffer themselves to be led by the grim spectres of
the twifight age of the church's history, and the midnight age of
the world's history ?
It must be confessed that on this ground, a reasonable doubt
may be entertained concerning the triumph of the particular
Oxford Tract confederacy, and the magnitude of the issue in
which the present movement is to terminate. A silent acqui
escence in trivial superstitions, or even a forward zeal in main
taining frivolous formahties, affords no criterion of mental strength,
in an age universaUy superstitious, and grossly ignorant ; but it
is hard not to consider such compliances, or such solemn triffing,
as the indications of an infirm temperament, when they meet us
in times of diffused inteUigence, and of vigorous mental activity.
It is not to be doubted that many a spirit of power, in times gone
by, has bowed, and cringed, and moulded itself to the pattern of
a Cassian's Institute ; but is it possible that any spirit of power
should now act the same part ? Shall we now find strong and
sound minds forcing themselves to lisp mummeries, to prate, and
whisper, and juggle, and drivel, and play the church puppet,
after the fashion of the monkery of the tenth century ? Few
will beheve this to be possible : — it is indeed hard for any to
believe it. In an age, not of idle but of solid learning, an age
of genuine, not of vain philosophy ; in an age (be it of too much
license and of irreligious latitude, yet) of real force and manliness,
and of rational and steady zeal ; in an age when there are, on
every side, and in the private walks of life, the possessors of high
qualities of mind and sentiment ; if in such an age, men who

12 ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
have wanted no advantages of culture, are seen, in their imitations
of antiquity, not merely to be bringing before us what might
justly be venerated on the score of pristine purity, but also what,
unless it could boast the hoary recommendations of time, must be
ridiculed as simply absurd, in such a case, more than a surmise
sun-irests itself, as to the intellectual stature of the zealous anti
quaries who may be playing the part here supposed.
But whatever estimate may be formed of individuals (and it is
unnecessary in this instance, as well as invidious to form any)
the opinions in question are to be considered in their intrinsic
weight ; and also in their bearing, which is peculiar, upon the
relative position ofthe established church, and of romanism. In
this view no controversy that has been started in modern times,
ought to be thought more important ; and if, at the present
moment it have fallen into feeble hands (a fact I do not affirm)
more sturdy arms, we need not doubt, will ere long snatch the
weapons now unsheathed, and command the respect of their
opponents. The opinions advanced in the Tracts for the Times, may die
away, for a whfle ; but they must revive at some time not very
remote. Motives of discretion, and the fear of change, natural
to men in office, may lead to a silent retreat from the ground that
was taken when the probable consequences of maintaining so
advanced a position had not been maturely considered. The
CENTRE PRINCIPLE of the Tracts for the Times — the unalienable
right of the church to an uncontroUed internal government, and
its inherent spiritual supremacy in relation to the civil power,
generally, and to the temporary administration of that power in
particular, this weighty doctrine tends directly, as all must see,
to a disruption of the existing connexion between the church and
the state, or to a rending of the texture from the top to the
bottom ; the state being now under the guardianship of parties
utterly adverse to any such elevated notions, and not at all likely
to surrender so considerable a means of sustaining, from session
to session, its tottering existence, as is afforded by the possession
of an undue influence over the church. Obvious motives of
discretion may therefore, for a while, restrain the combatants on
the one side of this controversy, as well as on the other ; and if

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ARGUMENT. JPi
even the promoters of it have braced their minds to meet aU tlie
consequences of opinions which, with them, are serious matters
of conscience, it may not be so with the clergy at large, without
whose willing ear and concurrence it would not be possible, even
for the most accomplished writers, long to bear up against that
tide of public opinion which they have to stem. With the clergy
at large it must rest to decide whether, by favouring an agitation
that touches the principle of the protestant establishment, they
shall bring every thing dear to them into peril — the establish
ment itself first — then the due influence of the aristocracy, and
then the denuded throne ; or whether, by promptly withdrawing
all support from these agitators, and by turning away their ear,
they shall stave off, awhile, the most dire commotion, religious
and political, that has ever convulsed the country.
The prediction has often been uttered, and by men of different
parties and opposite feelings, that, if England is again to undergo
revolutionary struggles, the heaving will commence within the
church. If then any such course of events be at all probable, the
earliest symptoms of its approach should be observed, and the
opportunity seized (if it be offered) of so opening the ground, as to
give timely vent to the volcanic fire that murmurs beneath our feet.
It is on this account especially that, while yet we may do so
in tranquillity, a thorough attention should be paid to such at
least of the Oxford Tract opinions, as may be the most readily
disposed of; and so, one by one, to extract the perflous ingre
dients from the mass. And whatever circumstance, of an extrinsic
kind, recommends these opinions as they are now advanced, fur
nishes a corroboratory reason for dealing with them so as that if
dispelled, it shall be for ever.
These extrinsic recommendations are in fact nearly as great as
can be imagined ; and as extraordinary, as unlocked for. The
solemn and plaintive tones of the ancient church, once heard
amid the pangs of martyrdom, or resounding as soft echoes,
wakening the solitudes of the deserts of Syria, Arabia, and upper
Egypt, the very same tones, and the same testimony, at once for
great truths, and for great errors — for eternal verities, and for
fntile superstitions, are now, and after so long a silence, breaking
from the cloisters of Oxford.

14 ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
This revival of the religion, and of the forms, of the principle,
and of the costume of the martyr church, has not sprung up iu
Germany, where the love of mysticism and paradox, recom
mended by rich erudition, is every day evolving systems destmed
to enjoy their turn of celebrity, and to be forgotten ; but in
England, where a characteristic national good sense, and a vigo
rous practical feeling, and the free interaction of aU elements,
moral and intellectual, combine to give condensation, and so
much the more force, to whatever courts the suffrages of the
educated classes. And in England this revival of ancient Chris
tianity has not burst from among tlie sects where, having less
confinement, it would sooner waste its infant strength ; hut from
the very heart of the established church, where salutary correc
tive influences are as strong and steady as they can be. Fur
thermore, it has not, as in certain instances which might be
mentioned, been fomented among juniors, more zealous than
discreet, and with whom the want of judgment, and the uncon
fessed impulses of hot ambition, might have combined to cherish
extravagance of conduct, and opinion^not with such have we
now to do, but with men of mature understanding, and of
authenticated professional quality, and whose official sentiments,
tending more toward repose than agitation, must be supposed to
outweigh any irregular desires of notoriety. The writers of the
Tract.! for the Times have far more, in every sense, to risk, than
they are likely to gain, by the course they are pursuing. And
finaUy, it is a circumstance worthy of notice, and corroboratory
of the general idea of our approaching an extraordinary and
peculiar crisis of the church, that, if one of the english univer
sities rather than the other could give sanction to doctrines and
practices drawn from christian antiquity, those maintained in
the Tracts for the Times are emanating, not from Cambrido-e —
but from Oxford.

1.5

SUBSTANCE OF THE ARGUMENT.

Concisely expressed, the argument of the reformation turned
upon the alleged difference between the religion of the middle
ages, and that of the New Testament. The romanist generaUy
admitted this diversity, and yet maintained that, whatever con
stituted the difference, was nevertheless binding upon the church :
the reformers therefore had more to do with the principle of the
authority which imposed this difference, than with the difference
in its details, and which was confessed on all sides.
Using, for the moment, a similar brevity of description, it may
be affirmed that the argument mooted by the writers of the
Oxford Tracts, turns upon the difference (if there be any)
between the religion of the New Testament, and that of the
pristine and martyr church, which difference, even if it were
ascertained, they would represent to be not merely innocent or
imitable, but of authoritative value.
After exhibiting this discrepancy, there would remain to be
discussed a question concerning the deference that is due, by the
modern church, to the ancient church, on the ground of its
having possessed, what we have lost, namely, the unwritten
mind, and the practices of the apostolic age ; as well as those
decisions, on various points of discipfine and worship, to which,
in their epistles, the apostles frequently refer, as generally
known, although not then and there specified. Whatever may
be the ultimate consequences, or tendency of their modes of
thinking, the Oxford Tract writers are not, like Tertullian,
labouring to establish the equal authority of a. perpetually ema-

10 ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC.
nating law, or a power of gradual development, granted without
limit, to the church ; but are simply affirnung the authority of
traditions known, or surmised to be, apostofical.
Such, as I understand them, are the points we have to consider
in the present argument. On aU hands, within the protestant
pale, the usurpations and corruptions of the romish church are
discarded. What have we, in England, to do with the Gregorys,
the Sylvesters, the Innocents, the Urbans, of Rome, or with the
notions they favoured, or with the practices they enjoined ?
Wliat part hath the bishop of Rome in these western islands ?
Prove that he may lawfully command us, as his spiritual children,
and we submit.
But it is another thing so to insulate ourselves from the broad
continent of ancient and catholic Christianity, as to denounce,
unexamined, whatever constitutes the difference between our own
Christianity, and that of the times when men were living who
had received their faith, at one or two removes, from the lips of
the twelve. It is another thing to incur the risk of discarding
all that the apostles might have recommended, or might have
established, although only incidentally (or perhaps not at all)
alluded to, in their extant writings.
With the indolent hope of evading laborious inquiries, and of
escaping from endless discussions, and of effectively cutting every
cord that ties us to romanism — with some such views as these,
there may be those who would sink antiquity altogether, well
content to reserve nothing but the canonical writings. To do
this, is, however, as impracticable a course, as it is bold and
unnecessary. Nothing remains for us, I am persuaded, but to
employ all that serious diligence and discrimination which we
may be masters of, and which the importance of the occasion
calls for, in an extensive research of christian antiquity.
Admitting the general principle, which, as I now state it, may
be easfiy established — That some deference is actually due to the
mind and testimony of the ancient church cathohc, there remains
to be determined, first — the chronological limits of that church,
or the precise period within which it was in fact cathohc, and
entitled, as such, to respect ; and secondly, what are the limita
tions under which this deference should be yielded and this

ANCJENT CHRISTIANITY, ETC. 17
testimony listened to. Is reverence due to whatever was gene
rally or even universally believed and practised within the
precincts of the ancient church ? We think not indeed ; but
if not, what are the exceptions ; and what the rules that should
guide us in making them ?
The writers of the Tracts for the Times have not as yet effected
the indispensable preliminary work of defining the legitimate
authority of the ancient church, and setting it clear of the many
perplexities that attach to the subject. Until this be done, they,
in asserting this authority, and others in impugning it, are
beating the air. In the foUowing pages an endeavour will be
made — and repeated from different starting points, so to
exhibit the real religious condition, and moral and spiritual
characteristics of the ancient church, as may go far in aiding us
to draw the line between a due, and an undue deference to this
alleged authority.
Whatever analogies may connect the doctrines of the Oxford
Tracts with popery, the difference between the two is such as
that those are likely to be disappointed who, hastily snatching up
the rusty swords of the reformers, rush, so accoutred, upon the
Oxford divines. To demolish popery (a work, as it has proved,
not so easily accomplished as some had imagined) is only to leave
the more ancient Christianity of the Oxford writers in a fairer
position. Nevertheless, as I have already said, if we can but clearly
define the respect due to the ancient church, and mark the
points where suspicion is to come in the place of deference,
almost every thing will have been done which mere argument
can be supposed to effect in ridding the world of the illusions of
the romish superstition. Our present labours then, arduous ks
they may be, are animated by a most cheering hope. We have
indeed a single subject in view, but a double purpose ; and the
ulterior intention of what we are proposing, challenges to itseJf a
solemnity which must urge every motive of exertion to the
highest pitch. Once again, and under extraordinary circum
stances, those questions are coming on to be discussed which
involve — the political destiny of nations, the social welfare of
mankind, and the weal or woe of innumerable souls I
c

18 CHRISTIANITY AND
Our subject then is not a bibfical argument, or a question of
interpretation ; nor is it directly theological, much less metaphy
sical or philosophical :— it is purely historical ; and what we have
to inquire about is — the actual condition of the christian church,
from the apostofic times, and downwards, toward the seventh
centurjr. — The history of Christianity I alas the ominous words sink
like a chfil into the heart. Christianity has no difficulties, or
none that ought for a moment to stagger a sound and well
informed mind, excepting such as attach to its history ; but
these, although clearly separable from the question of its own
divine origin, yet how serious and how disheartening are they I
The christian, if he would enjoy any serenity, should either know
nothing of the history of his religion ; or he should be acquainted
with it so thoroughly, as to have satisfied himself that the dark
surmises which had tormented his solitary meditations, have no
real bearing upon the principles of his faith.
In truth these difficulties, whatever they may be, when they
come to be accurately examined, are found to press, not upon
Christianity itself; but upon certain too hastily assumed principles
of natural theology, which they may appear to contradict. The
general aspect of the gospel economy suggests expectations, as
to the divine purposes toward mankind, at large, which not only
have not hitherto been justified by the course of human affairs,
but which the explicit predictions of our Lord, and of his apostles,
had we properly regarded them, shoidd have taught us not to
entertain. After listening, in the first place, to the predictions
of the Jewish prophets concerning the reign of the Messiah, and
then to the song of the angelic choir, announcing the actual birth
of the Prince of Peace, if we turn, either to our Lord's public
discourses, or to his private conversations with his disciples, a
very remarkable contrast presents itself; and whether or not we
may be successful in harmonizing the apparent discrepancy, it
presents an alternative strikingly confirmatory of our faith as
christians. For, in the first place, the unambiguous, and often-
repeated announcements made by Christ to his followers, of perse .
cutions, universal hatred, and cruel deaths, which awaited toose
who should promulgate his doctrine, were the very reverse of what

ITS HISTORY.. 19
an umn.spired founder of a new faith would either himself have
admitted, or would have ventured to hold before his early ad-
nerents. Then, and in the second place, these same announce
ments, when compared with the facts which make up the history
of the church, stand forward as prophecies, so fulfiUed to the
letter, as to vindicate the divine prescience of him who uttered
them. In like manner the predictions contained in the apostolic
epistles, and which speak of the corruptions and the apostasies
that should arise within the church, are available in this same
two-fold manner, first, as evidences of truth and sincerity on
the part of the apostles, and as opposed to enthusiasm and
guile, which would have dictated things more fair and smooth ;
and, secondly, of a divinely imparted foreknowledge of the course
of events.
Let it be granted then, that the history of Christianity painfully
contradicts the bright expectations we might have entertained of
what the gospel was to be, and to do. But does it in any particle
contradict our Lord's own forewarnings, or the apostles' explicit
predictions concerning the fate and position of its adherents in
this world of evil ? Assuredly not.
These general observations, often as they have been advanced
by christian writers, might be considered as impertinent in this
place, as to their ordinary bearing ; but they contain an inference
peculiarly significant in relation to our immediate object. Let
me say then, that, without prejudging the scheme of ecclesiastical
principles which we are now proposing to sift, we may at least
affirm that it supposes a state of things in the early church, much
more in accordance with the vague expectations just referred to,
than either with the well-defined predictions of Paul, Peter, and
Jude, or with the pages of church history. Now this difference
should be noted, and it should lead those who hitherto have over
looked it, to give the more attention to the details of an inquiry,
the purport of which is to discover whether ancient Christianity
was, in fact, what we should have rejoiced to find it ; or, on the
contrary, what the apostolic prophecies would have led us sorrow
fully to look for.
If, in any particular instance, the authority of the ancient church
c 2

?(* CHRISTIANITY AND
is to be urged upon the modern church, then surely there is a
pertinence in turning to the apostofic prophecies of corruptions,
and apostasies, quickly to spring up within the sacred enclosure
itself, which meet us at- the threshold, and seem to bring us
under a solemn obligation to look to it, lest, amid the fervours of
an indiscriminate reverence, we seize for imitation the very things
which the apostles foresaw, and forewarned the church of, as
deadly errors !
No practical caution can be much more clear, as to its propriety,
or important in itself, than the one I now insist upon. Say, we
are about to open the original and authentic records of ancient
Christianity, and in doing so, have a specific intention to compare
our modern Christianity therewith, and to redress it, if necessary,
in accordance with the pristine model. But at this moment, the
apostolic predictions, like a handwriting on the wall, brighten
before our eyes, in characters of terror. We are entering a wide
field, upon the skirts of which a friendly hand has posted the —
' Beware of pits and swamps, even on the beaten paths of this
sacred ground.' To addict oneself to the study of ancient Chris
tianity, with a credulous, antiquarian veneration, regardless of
the apostolic predictions, is to lay oneself down to sleep upon the
campagna, after having been told that the whole region exhales a
malignant miasma : the fate of one so infatuated, would not be
more sure, than merited.
Nevertheless these cautions, which common discretion, not less
than piety, suggest and confirm, are misunderstood if they are
used to discourage any researches which our extant materials
atTord the means of prosecuting. The scoffer and sceptic, casting
a hasty glance upon church history, and looking, by instinct of
his personal tastes, to the scum and the froth, turns away in
arrogant disgust ; but the christian may not do the same. On
the other side, the unlearned befiever, finding, in church history,
if he looks into it at all, what revolts his feelings, clasps his bible
to his bosom, with a renewed affection, and resolves to know
nothing else : and it may be an iU-advised zeal that would disturb
such a resolution.
Yet it is certain that christians of cultivated minds, and
especially aU who stand forward as the teachers of religion.

ITS HISTORY. 21
owe it to themselves, and to others, to stand free from the many
perils of ignorance, on this particrdar ground ; — and on no ground
is it more dangerous to be ignorant, or imperfectly informed.
It is a happy omen of the present times, that this ignorance, or
slender information, lately attaching to aU but here and there a
secluded antiquary, is now being rapidly dispersed ; so that on
all sides, those who addict themselves to theological studies,
whether exegetioal, dogmatic, or ecclesiastical, are turning, with
an animated and sedulous zeal, to the remains of ancient christian
literature. Some, perhaps, with an overweening reverence, and
others with a predetermined contempt ; but more than a few,
with a weU-directed and inteUigent curiosity, are turning over
the long-neglected tomes that embody the history of our religion ;
and it is a remarkable fact that, at this very moment, these labo
rious inquiries, set on foot under peculiar circumstances, in each
instance, are being pursued in Germany, in France, and in Eng
land, The combined result (for the several results must meet at
length in one issue) cannot but bring about momentous changes
in each of these countries ; nor is it unreasonable to entertain the
expectation of consequences which must deeply affect the religious
condition of Europe, and of the world.
Among ourselves, however, there are too many who, whether
from motives of indolence, which one would be reluctant to im
pute, or from a dim forethought of some undesired consequences,
hold back from the studies which others are so honourably prose
cuting. Looking at the christian world at large, there appears
to be just now a more urgent need of persuasives to the study
of christian history and Uterature, than of cautions against the
abuse of such studies. Too many feel and speak as if they
thought there were no continuity in their religion ; or as if there
were no universal church ; or as if the individual christian, with
his bible in his hand, need fix his eyes upon nothing, but the
little eddy of his personal emotions ; or as if Christianity were
not what it is its glory and its characteristic to be — a religion
OF history.
Christianity, the pledge of eternity to man, is the occupant of
all time ; and not merely was it, itself, the ripening of the dis
pensations that had gone before, but it was to be the home

22 christianitt and
companion of the successive generations of man, until the con
summation of aU things. Not to know Christianity, then, as the
religion of all ages, and as that which grasps and interprets the
cycles of time, is to be in a condition like that of one whose
gloomy chamber admits only a single ray of the universal radiance
of noon.
The forward-looking temper of these stirring times, has with
drawn christians, far too much, from the quieting recollection
that they themselves are members of a series, and portions of a
mass ; nor do we, so much or so often as might be well, entertain
the solemn meditation, that, individually, we are hastening to join
the general assembly of those who, from age to age, have stood
where we now stand, as the holders and professors of God's truth
in the world. Is there no irreligion, no want of faith and fervour,
indicated by a voluntary ignorance of the history of those into
whose company, within a few months, or years, we are to be
thrown ?
Christianity is no system of philosophy, or abstract principles,
broached, no one cares when, and having no visible attachments
to place, time, or persons, and which, as it is pregnant with no
hopes, is rich with no records. And again, it stands vividly
contrasted with false religions of aU names, which, contradicted
as they are by genuine history, in what concerns their origin,
show themselves, throughout every year and century of their
continuance, to be more and more belied by the course of events ;
and so, as time runs on, are loosening their precarious hold of the
convictions of their adherents, by illuding, more and more, their
expectations. Christianity is the reverse of all this, in its form,
and in the mode of its conveyance, and in the sentiments which
it generates. Its own constant tendency is to gather, not to
scatter ; and not merely does it, or would it, bind its true adhe
rents of each age, in a visible communion ; but it knits together,
in one, by a retrospective and anticipative feeling, the chfldren of
God, who are dispersed through all periods of time.
Because it is of the very essence of truth in religion, to
blend itself with a certain series of events, and to mix itself with
history, example, more than precept, biography more than ab
stract doctrine, are made to convey to us, in the scriptures, the

ITS HISTORY. 23
various elements of piety. Truth in religion, is always some
thing that has been acted and transacted, and that has been
embodied in persons and societies. So intimately does this con
dition of CONTINUITY attach to the gospel scheme, that the in
spired narrative of the past, runs on, without a break, into the
announcement of the future : thus the entire destinies of the
human family — a part narrated, and a part foretold, a part
brought under the direct beams of history, and a part dimly
adumbrated in prophecy, are grasped by it, and claimed as its
possession. One must be perplexed in hearing the christian, with an his
toric bible in his hand, and who, by its aid, commands a prospect
over aU the fields of time, and far into the regions of eternity,
yet speaking as if certain intermediate periods of the great cycle
of God's dispensations were nothing to him ; or as if he might as
weU be utterly ignorant of large tracts of this extensive course,
as know them. The forming an acquaintance, so far as we
possess the means of opening it, with our brethren, and fellow-
citizens, and precursors, in the christian commonwealth, we owe
to their virtues and their sufferings ; and we owe it, not less, to
their errors and their illusions ; and if they themselves (we may
be sure) could now send us a message of love, it would relate
much rather to the errors against which we need to be cautioned,
than to the virtues of which we may find brighter examples in
scripture itself, or elsewhere.
But there is even a more serious motive, urging the ministers
of religion, especially, to a devout and careful study of church
history ; and it is a motive which has a particular bearing upon
the difficult inquiries we have now in view. What then is church
history (and especiaUy what would it be, if our materials were
more ample) but a running commentary upon our Lord's promise,
to be with his servants ' always, even to the end of the world ? '
These words, sacred as they are, and peculiar, as having been
uttered at the most remarkable moment of all time (if only that
of the second advent be excepted) can have no meaning, or none
that can render them important to ourselves, if we are not to look
into church history for their verification.
This promise, so emphatically uttered, with whatever benefits

24 , CHRISTIANITY AND
¦it may teem, was not given without a clear prescience of the very
things that most offend and perplex us in the records of Chris
tianity. Not a heresy that has troubled the church, not any out
burst of pride and passion among divines, that has disgraced it,
no illusion that has seduced the few, and none that has infatuated
the many, or even the church at large, throughout the lapse of
ages, was unforeseen by him who thus formaUy engaged to be
with and near his ministers, and people, in the long succession of
their office, until he comes again. How is it possible to think
less than this ? Or how, if we think it, can we be incurious con
cerning the actual indications of that divine presence from age
to age ?
But the difficulty is this ; and is a serious one — these indica
tions of the Lord's presence with his church, have not been such
as we should have expected to find them ; — either the Lord has
not seemed to surround hunself with the men whom we should
have chosen for his companions, or he has not frequented the
places where we are apt first to look for him. Now it is pre
cisely in connexion with some such uneasy feefings as these, that
many pious persons entertain prejudices which have an unfavour
able influence upon their religious character ; and it relates
immediately to the great questions now before us, to consider
well our actual position in this instance.
• — When, in any case, a weU known friend, or a teacher and
guide, or a prince and patron, acts in the very way which we had
anticipated, and when he says and does very nearly what we
should have imagined him to say and do, under given circum
stances, we stand on one side, with a quiet, incurious acqui
escence, just as we watch the rising and the setting of the sun,
as his undeviatmg revolutions brmg him, at the wonted moment,
to the line of the horizon. But how different are our feelings,
and how much more intense and wakeful is our attention if,
while we stfil confidently rely upon what we know of our friend
or patron's wisdom, and goodness, he starts aside from the path
we have presumed to mark out for him, and holds a course which
confounds every notion we had entertained of his character and
purposes ! — In any such case, we rouse ourselves from our pre
vious listlessness, and, with an anxious intentness of mind, watch

ITS HISTORY. 25
every movement, listen to every word he utters, and note, even
the least considerable circumstances of his behaviour ; his every
gesture fixes our eye, and we let nothing escape us which may
afford some indication of those hidden reasons which wfll at
length explain so unlooked for a course of conduct. Do we not
thoroughly know our friend, patron, prince ? May we not hope
then, that, sooner or later, we shaU find the means of interpreting
the enigmas of his administration ?
The application of such a supposed case is obvious, in this
instance. If it be true that the general complexion of church
history, through the course of long centuries, is such as to offend
our preconceived notions, and to shock our spiritual tastes ; and
if, while we bend over the records of those dim eras, the promise
of the Lord to be with his servants, stiff rings in our ears, as a
doleful knell of hopes broken ; if it be so, the motive becomes so
much the more impressive which impels us to acquire an authentic
knowledge of this course of events, in aU its detafls ; and if there
are any who must acknowledge that they feel a pecufiar repug
nance in regard to church history, they are the very persons,
more than any other, whom it behoves to school themselves in
this kind of learning ; for it seems more than barely probable,
that this distaste springs from some iU affection of their own
minds, demanding to be exposed and remedied. Such persons
may well admit the supposition that they have hastily assumed
certain notions of their Lord's principles of government, which
are in fact unlike what, at length, they wiU find themselves to be
subject to ; and if so, the sooner they dispel any such false impres
sions, the better. On the face of the instance supposed, one should
say, that any perplexities we may feel in regard to that course of
events which constitutes the history of Christianity, probablj' spring
from some deep-seated error of feehng, or of opinion, which, for
our own sakes, we should carefuUy analyze.
Reasons such as these, ought to be enough to engage the
ministers of religion, at least, in the labour of obtaining as much
familiarity as their more urgent duties wfll aflow, with the records
of our faith, from age to age. Other motives, very obvious, and
often adverted to, belong rather to individuals, addicting them
selves, from personal taste, or professional obligation, to specific

26 CHRISTIANITY AND
studies, and who wiU not stop short of a thorough knowledge of
their chosen subject. To some of these technical uses of church
history, I shall have occasion presently to advert ; but these
pursuits have yet another, and a general recommendation, which
I do not remember to have seen insisted upon, although it is not
in itself inconsiderable, and is very proper in this place to be
adduced, when our inquiries are to involve some of the most
intricate principles of human nature, as wrought upon by refi
gious motives.
In all cases, then, in which the materials of history are copious,
as well as authentic, it holds good as a rule, that the practical
utifity of each portion of it bears a direct proportion to the degree
in which, within the community so reported, the various elements
of human nature have been developed. A contracted develop
ment of human nature, involves a barren narrative of events :
nothing can be more parched, or destitute of nutriment, than is
the story of the fortunes and misfortunes of savage, or semi-
barbarous nations : a page or two, comprising the broad facts of
the physical and social condition of such communities, affords all
the instruction we could derive from a volume, were it written.
In truth, although there may be pictures of the imperfectly
civifized races, there can be no history of them. It is Greece
that may have a history, where the human mind spreads itself
out, fike a superb flower, fronting the sun, untfl the most delicate
tints, and the finest structure of its inmost recesses are laid
open : and the same is true of Rome, and Italy, and modern
Europe. Now on this very principle, although, in comparing church
history with that of civil societies, the former must be granted to
want the brUliancy, and movement, that give an untiring charm
to the latter, yet has it its prerogative, and a high one (if solid
instruction be sought for) and it is this, that it exhibits men to
our view, as wrought upon by motives at once more profound,
and less easily understood, than any others. False religions
have indeed turned up human nature from its depths, in a manner
never effected by those interests that are merely secular. But
true rehgion, beside its power in common with the false, to
f.r.imate the deepest seated emotions, has exhibited these occult

ITS HISTORY. 27
elements in combination, and in contrast with, emotions altogether
pecuhar to itself, and which, without its aid, would lie latent
beneath the sofl of human nature, from age to age. It is Chris
tianity, and nothing else could have done it, that has shown man
all that is in his heart. No other stage of human affairs exhibits
human nature, as this does, displaying, now the virtues that ally
man to God, and now the dark passions that seem to render him
the fit associate of fiends. What line of history then can be
equal to church history, for instructiveness ? Thus it must be
ordinarUy ; but it is peculiarly so, as often as occasions arise in
which what may be new to ourselves, who are but of yesterday,
may be found, in its pattern, on this or that page of the
records of the church. On such occasions, more perhaps than
on any other, those possess an advantage over their brethren,
whose minds are already stored with a weU digested mass of
instances, appficable to the novelties (or apparent novelties) of
whatever kind, which, from time to time, blaze out to alarm the
timid, and to aUure the simple. A ready recoUection of the
ancient guise of the very same error or foUy, is all that we need,
in many cases, for allaying our fears, or for securing us against
the infatuation which affects others, or for suggesting the remedies
that are to be employed. Under circumstances more or less
strictly analogous, we have the invaluable opportunity of seeing
how our predecessors have discharged their duty, or have com
promised it.
The adage — ' nothing new under the sun,' holds good in a
peculiar sense within the precincts of the church, and it does so
for an obvious reason — What is new, or rather what seems to be
new, in the manifold up-turnings of human affairs, springs, from
some less- usual combination of the thousand lighter impulses that
are at work within our bosoms ; and these impulses, because they
are so many, and because the individual varieties of disposition
also are indefinitely numerous, will be throwing out, from time
to time, rare conjunctions of temper and of circumstance. But
those deeper principles of our moral and inteUectual nature to
which Christianity addresses itself, are very few, and the elements
of truth also are few ; and hence, by necessity, the changes
of which the two, in combination, are susceptible, must be

23 CHRISTIANITY AND
comparatively few, and therefore, severally, of more frequent
recurrence. There is Httle risk in affirming that the first five centuries, or
we might even say, the first three of the christian history, com
prise a sample of every variety of intellectual or moral aberration
of which human nature is at aU susceptible, under the influence
of religious excitements. No great ingenuity therefore can be
needed in matching any modern form of error or extravagance,
with its like, to be produced from the museum of antique speci
mens. And how much relief, under any new perplexity, may be
derived from such recognitions, those can best tell who are the
best furnished with the requisite erudition. If then there were
no other recommendation of these studies, the one now referred
to would be enough to repay all the labours which they involve.
I venture to add that, in the momentous and intricate questions
to which we are now addressing ourselves, a fair use of antiquity,
as a copia instantiarum, wiU carry us safely and undoubtingly
through every strait.
Or if there are, or have been agitators of the repose of the
church, who would resent any recurrence to antiquity, as
applicable to themselves, and who would not be afraid to
denounce an appeal to it as superstitious, and impertinent, the
parties with whom we have now to do, not merely admit the
propriety of such a reference, but are the most forward to
invite it ; making it their boast that the image of what
they are, or what they would fain be, may be contemplated
in the fair glass of antiquity. Nothing remains then but
that they, and their opponents, should together look into that
glass. These indispensable studies have, in fact, been revived of late
to a great extent, in our own, as weU as other countries ; while
the necessity of them is forced anew upon the minds of aU, by
the unexpected advances of romanism, the ministers of which
are takmg advantage of that ignorance of antiquity that has too
long been the reproach of protestantism.
So much importance attaches, at the present moment, to eccle
siastical learning, that it must not be deemed impertinent, in this
place, to exhibit the futflity of certain suppositions on the ground

ITS HISTORY. 29
of which manyliave been used to excuse their slight acquaintance
with it.
In the first place then, it is often roundly affirmed, that we
may know as much of the history of our religion as can avail
us for any practical purposes, through the medium of modern
compilations, caUed — histories of the church. Now to this
assumption it might be a sufficient reply, that we have to do at
present, as well in the instance of the Oxford Tract divines, as
in that of the romanists, with men who know much more of
christian antiquity than can be gathered from any such sources.
Can we then imagine it to be safe to enter into controversy with
our antagonists, less well-informed than themselves ? Besides,
since the time when most of those compilations were given to
the world, the views of the best informed persons, on the general
subject of historical composition, have undergone a great change j
so that even the most able and noted of our writers, in this line,
have lost much of the esteem which they once enjoyed ; that is
to say, as historians. Who, now-a-days, thinks it enough to
know just as much of history as Hume, or Robertson, may
inform him of? History, to subserve its practical uses, is not to
be conveyed in broad generalities, or in the rounded periods of a
philosophical digest : it is not a landscape painting of gay forms,
and well-grouped masses ; but a sedulous adduction of genuine
materials, such as shaU enable us, so far as remoteness of time
admits, to understand, as weU the actual condition of mankind, at
different eras, as the motives and conduct of those who have con
trolled pubUc events.
And if nothing less than this sort of elaborate preparation can
be accepted in the walks of secular history, assuredly we need
rather a larger measure than a less, to render ecclesiastical history
of much avail ; and for this reason especially, that, in what
relates to refigion, the intimate character and motives of men are,
relatively, more important, as compared with their public con
duct, than in civfl affairs ; whfle, at the same time, these interior
facts are Uable to be more disguised. Statesmen may be truly
estimated, much more easfiy than churchmen ; and yet a just
estimation of the latter is much more important for securing the
ends of history, than it can be of the former. We cannot

so CHRISTIANITY AND
therefore stand excused from the task of carefully considering the
entire mass of extant materials of church history, if we wish to
secure any valuable result of sound wisdom, as the fruit of our
labour. Allowing every merit that can fairly be clauDed for our modern
church histories, to what immense deductions are they not fiable,
if considered as mirrors of christian antiquity ? The ecclesiastical
and theological prejudices of some of these writers, and their
pledged subserviency to particular interests, the utter wjant of
religious feeling in others, the superstition of some, and the
fanaticism of a few, are enough to justify our passing them by,
one and all, if what we have in view be a genuine acquaintance
with the subject. Besides, if such works embrace the sixteen or
eighteen centuries of Christianity, those periods that are in fact
the most important, must be confined within limits much too
narrow ; and even this scanty allotment of pages, has, in most
instances, been still further restricted by the admission of tedious
disquisitions on points of no intrinsic value — -as whether a martyr
dom occurred in this, or the next year ; or whether a senseless
heresy included, or did not include, such or such an unintelligible
dogma I points which are dismissed at last with the ingenuous
confession, that they are neither of much consequence, nor sus
ceptible of any conclusive determination !
But even if we could name a modern church history, exempt
from all such faults and deficiencies, it would stfil be nothino-
better than — a statement digested, and therefore less than
what is indispensable, when momentous questions come to
hinge upon an exact knowledge of antiquity. The reading a
modern church history, supposing it to combine every excel
lence, if compared with the perusal of the original materials
whence that history was drawn, and of which it is a digest,
might not unfitly be likened to the fistening, in chancery,
to a body of written affidavits, and statements of facts, profes
sionally dressed up, and moulded with a special intention ; — such
a body of evidence, compared with the hearing and seeing of the
actual witnesses, in a court of law. In the one case the most
astute professional sagacity often fails to reach the naked truth ;
whfle in the other, an honest and intelhgent juryman, conversant

ITS HISTORY.

Si

with human nature, wants no assistance, ordinarily^ in discerning
the true from the false. In innumerable instances, it is found
that a just and vivid conception of things or persons, remote, that
is to say— the very truth, apart from which aU else that we may
know is substantially false, comes before us, unlooked for, and
whfle, perhaps, we may have been fistlessly threading our way
down a lifeless page. And such casual indications, or revelations,
as one might cafl them, of the naked truth, are more likely than
not to be passed over by the grave compiler of history, as un
worthy of his dignified regard ; or as altogether trivial.
It might indeed seem as if a judicious selection from the greek
and latin church writers, would sufficiently secure the benefits to
be derived, even from the perusal of the whole of them ; thus
saving the time and cost of doing so. But a moment's con
sideration wfll expose the fallaciousness of such a supposition ;
for even allowing the utmost discretion to him who undertakes
the task of selection, on what principle, let it be asked, is it likely
to be made ? It must be replied that, at once the pious tastes
of the editor, and his solicitude to provide, in the best manner he
can, for the combined edification and pleasure of his readers
(of the religious public such as it is) wfll prompt, nay compel
him, to cull the flowers of sacred literature, as he goes ; and to
leave, where he finds them, the weeds. In a word, he will gather,
as most proper for his purpose, whatever an intelligent and pious
reader would be likely to distinguish, with a margin pencil line,
as worthy of a second perusal. All this may be weU enough, if
the mere edification of the private christian be in view ; but what
sort of provision is it, which is thus made for acquiring a compe
tent knowledge of the merits and characters of the actors in
church history ? Miserably wiU any one be deluded who trusts
himself to any such culled materials ! I think more than a few of
the passages I shall hereafter have occasion to cite, how pertinent
soever they may be in regard to the question at issue, are of a
kind that would never have found a place in any selection from
the fathers. Nay, these passages reveal iacts which the compilers
of church history, one and aU, have studiously concealed from
their readers.
If we are anxious to know what the church was at any time.

32 CHRISTIANITY AND
and what its teachers and masters were, then the more j-udicious
such a selection may be, in one sense, the more effectively wiU it
lead us astray : the choicest coflection made on any such principle,
would be the most mendacious, if regarded as testimony.
Such a coflection, considered as a material of history, is a splendid
vapour, hovering as a glare of seductive light, over a swamp.
Materials so brought together, are just what a body of evidence,
produced in court, would be, if an advocate were aUowed to
bring forward every thing in which the witnesses are agreed,
and to suppress every thing in which they differ. Yet it is pre
cisely by the sifting of the discrepancies in testimony that truth
is elicited. So far as Christianity is the same in all ages, and in all hearts,
truly admitting its influence, there must be very much, in the
writings of all christian men (whatever system they may have
lived under) which, in the best sense of the word, is catholic ;
and it is just this catholic element, or genuine portion of such
writings, that recommends itself to our pious sympathies, meet
it where we may, and which therefore will be seized upon by
right-minded collectors of the ' golden sayings ' of good men.
But now it is precisely toward the discordant portions of ancient
christian writings that the keen eye of historic industry should be
directed. It is not the choice portions, but the refuse, not the
sound, but the unsound, not the symmetrical, but the disfigured,
not the wisdom, so much as the folly, that we have need to scruti
nize, and to trace to its origin. Without a paradox it may be
affirmed that, in labouring to know what the christian body really
was, in any age, it is what is (in a sense) impertinent, that will
prove the most pertinent to our purpose. In a word, it is less
the sameness than the difference, which we should be looking for.
Who does not know that, in matters of religion, what appears the
fairest, demands the nicest sifting ; and that, to be credulous, is
to be duped, until we are driven to doubt of every thing ? Those
therefore who know, in church history, only what modern writers
may please to have reported, stand exposed to a cruel shock, and
a sad trial of their principles, should it ever happen to them to
learn a little more.
Nor ought the best translations to be confided in, as conclusive

ITS HISTORY. S3.
evidence, in historical disquisitions ; for we have not merely to
guard against wilful perversions of the sense of ancient authors,
and the many oversights to which the most careful translator is
liable, but against the latent illusion of attributing, to certain
words and phrases, necessarfly employed by the translator, a
modern, instead of an ancient sense. A translation may be literal,
or it may be free, and in fact the best possible in its kind, and
yet it may convey to the modern ear notions substantially differ
ing from those which were attached to the equivalents, by the
ancient writer, and his reader. And thus it must be, because the
language of every people is not a medium of universal ideas and
notions ; hut the instrument of a particular set of minds, nicely
adapted to its occasions, and, whenever employed by energetic
writers, is much more specific, than generic ; and therefore is
insusceptible of translation, in the direct proportion in which it
may be worth translating.
The earliest christian writers, who, most of them, can claim
very little regard on account of any excellences of style, or even
of matter, but yet whose evidence is of the utmost consequence
in ecclesiastical discussions, suffer peculiarly in translation ; for
a false taste, and a dialect in which the most incongruous elements
were jumbled together, fill them with unpleasing turns of expres
sion, which, when the}' come to be literally rendered (and a free
version is not in these instances admissible) make them so repul
sive, that the perusal in a translation, is more wearisome even,
than it seems in the original. I'he writers, inestimable as they
are on account of their testimony (the preservation of which
ought to be regarded as an instance of providential interposition,
for subserving important ends) these writers are not to be known,
to any good purpose, otherwise than in their own language.
There is no alternative, in the present instance, but that of man
fully addressing ourselves to a task of some labour and difficulty.
The controversies upon which the church is now entering are of
vitalconsequence, and they are inveterate ; and any course that
may be adopted, at the suggestion of indolence or impatience,
and which may seem at first to be summary and sufficient, will
prove, as I venture to predict, as unavailing as trite and meagre.
At a time when, in the pursuit of secular interests, m«n in all
D

34 CHRISTIANITY AND
professions are making unheard-of efforts, and are undergoing
labours which our fathers did not dream of, ought it to be consi
dered as a great thing if those to whom the preservation and
defence of sacred truths has been committed, should be expected
to make themselves masters of the subject they have to do with ?
The perusal — through and through, of the greek and latin writers,
of the first six centuries, is a labour not to be compared with
those undergone, in the course of his education and early prac
tice, by every accomplished lawyer.
Another common, but very unfounded impression, relative to
the extant remains of christian antiquity (the prevalence of which,
at the present time, would leave a dangerous advantage in the
hands of those whom we are to withstand) is to this effect —
That the greek and latin fathers, as a body, were men of intellect
so slender, and are either so inane, or so absurd, as that the
perusal of them, except by a few antiquaries, must be a sheer
waste of time ; or at least that it can never repay the toil. Or
it is affirmed, that, so far as these writers were sound and
judicious, the same sentiments, better expressed, may be met
with much nearer home, and in our own language. Or, generally,
that whatever accomplishments the ministers of religion may
possess, they may, in these days of benevolent activity, employ
their time to better advantage than in brushing the dust from
neglected folios. The course of events is hastening to offer a
startling refutation of any such assumptions.
But the mere fact of applying any comprehensive terms, either
of admiration or of contempt, to a series of writers stretching
through seven hundred or a thousand years, and these writers,
natives as they were of distant countries, some of them simple
and rude, while others were erudite and accomplished, may be
taken as a proof of heedlessness, regarding the matter in hand,
sufficient to excuse a sflent disregard of the objection it involves.
These 'fathers,' thus grouped as a little band, by the objectors,
were some of them men of as brilliant genius as any age has
produced ; some, commanding a flowing and vigorous eloquence,
some, an extensive erudition, some, conversant with the great
world, some whose meditations had been ripened by years of
seclusion, some of them the only historians of the times in which

ITS HISTORY. 35
they lived, some, the chiefs of the pliilosophy of their age ; and,
if we are to speak of the whole, as a bfidy of writers, they are
the men who, during a long era of deepening barbarism, still
held the lamp of knowledge and learning, and in fact afford us
almost all that we can now know, intimately, of the condition of
the nations surrounding the Mediterranean, from the extinction
of the classic fire, to the time of its rekindling in the fourteenth
century. The church was the ark of all things that had life,
during a deluge of a thousand years.
Such is the group which is often conveniently dismissed with
a concise phrase of contempt I It may be suspected that very
many of the delighted admirers of the History of the Decfine
and FaU of the Roman empire, are little aware of the extent of
Gibbon's obligations to — the fathers. Were it possible to draw
off from that seductive work the entire materials derived by the
indefatigable author from the ecclesiastical compartment of his
library, it is no small proportion of the splendour, the accuracy,
the correct drawing, the vivid colouring, which are its chariri and
praise, that would be found wanting. Well would it have been
if some of the professed champions and historians of Christianity,
had been as thoroughly conversant vrith the remains of christian
antiquity as was its most dangerous assailant.
The ignorance of which we are here complaining, has once
endangered our faith as christians ; and it is now endangering
our faith as protestants.
Nearly of the same quality, and usually advanced by the same
parties, is the insinuation, or the bold averment, that there was
little or no Christianity in the world from the times of Justin
Martyr, to those of Wicliffe or of Luther ! and the inference from
this assumption is, that we are far more likely to be led astray
than edified by looking into the literature of this vast territory
of religious darkness.
I must leave it to those who entertain any such sombre belief
as this, to repel, in the best manner they are able, those fiery
darts of infideUty which wifl not fail to be hurled at Christianity
itself, as often as the opinion is professed. Such persons, too,
must expound as they can, our Lord's parting promise to his
servants. D 2

36 CHRISTIANITY AND
Notions of this sort, and there are many of like kind, probably
take their rise from some sectarian hypothesis, concerning Chris
tianity. We do not perhaps find, during certain cycles of the
church's history, that style or dialect, which, by an intimate
association of ideas, has combined itself with our own religious
sentiments ; and we do find much that is decisively erroneous ;
and therefore, it is to us, and our peculiar feelings, as if Chris
tianity itself had actually not been extant, at such times. If
these be our feelings, it is well that we get rid of them with all
speed. Christianity is absolute truth, bearing, with various
effect, from age to age, upon distorted and discoloured human
nature ; but never so powerfully pervading the foreign substance
it enters, as itself to undergo no defiections, or to take no stains ;
and as its influence varies from age to age, in intensity, as well as
in the particular direction it may take, so does it exhibit, from
age to age, great variations of form and hue. But the men of
any one age indulge too much the overweening temper that
attaches always to human nature, when they say, without careful
and impartial inquiry — our Christianity is absolute Christianity ;
but that of such or such an age, was a mere shadow of it.
.Let christians, whose characteristic it should be not to think
more highly of themselves than is meet, cherish a different
feeling, and be willing to open a kindly communion with their
brethren of distant times. Surely far too little of this sympathy is
felt by many who, because the authority of the early church has
been overstrained and perversely employed by romanists, have
almost learned to feel toward their brethren of the early ages,
as their adversaries in a controversy; just as a man is apt to
harbour a grudge against a neighbour who happens to have been
subpoenaed by his enemy, to give evidence against him in a suit.
If the fathers have given a handle to popery, we must remember
they little knew what it was which they were preparing for the
world. It wiU presently be my task — a task not to be evaded, to
adduce evidence in proof of the aflegation that extensive and
very mischievous illusions affected the Christianity of the ancient
church ; nevertheless, the very men whose example must now be
held up as a caution, were, many of them, christians not less

ITS HISTORY. 37
than ourselves, nay, some of those who were the most deluded
by particular errors, were eminent christians. Nothing is easier
(or more edifying, in the inference it carries) than to adduce
instances ofexalted virtue, piety, constancy, combined with what
all must now admit to have been an infatuated attachment to
pernicious errors. Our brethren of the early church challenge
our respect, as well as affection ; for theirs was the fervour of a
steady faith in things unseen and eternal ; theirs, often, a meek
patience under the most grievous wrongs ; theirs the courage to
maintain a good profession before the frowning face of phflosophy,
of secular tyranny, and of splendid superstition ; theirs was
abstractedness from the world, and a painful self-denial ; theirs
the most arduous and costly labours of love ; theirs a munificence
in charity, altogether without example ; theirs was a reverent
and scrupulous care of the sacred writings ; and this one merit,
if they had no other, is of a superlative degree, and should entitle
them to the veneration and grateful regards of the modern
church. How little do many readers of the bible, now-a-days,
think of what it cost the christians of the second and third cen
turies, merely to rescue and hide the sacred treasure from the
rage of the heathen !
Whfle, as yet, every thing in the church, and in the world,
was what the Lord had given them reason to look for ; while.
christians were still a rescued band — sheep among wolves, and
were many of them, literally, pilgrims and strangers upon earth,
cast out of the bosom of the state, and driven from the social
circle ; while, as yet, those inexplicable events had not taken
place which have so much staggered the faith of later christians ;
while the near coming of their Lord was firmly expected, and
while nothing had happened of which he had not given his people
an intimation ; then and during that fresh morning hour of the
church, there belonged to the sincere followers of Christ a fulness
of faith in the realities of the unseen world, such as, in later ages,
has been reached only by a few eminent and meditative indivi
duals ; — the many felt a persuasion which now is fqlt only by the
few. In later seasons of persecution, if there may have been a
similar confidence in the bosoms of christians, it has been,
disturbed by some mixed sentiments. Questions of doctrine, or,

38 THE dependence of the modern church
points of ecclesiastical right, have ruffled, at least, the spirits, or
soured the temper of the suffering party. But the first perse
cutions were the manifested rage of satan and of his ministers,
against Christ and his people. Later persecutions have been, in
some degree, struggles of parties, alternately ascendant, and both
claiming to act for Christ. Nero, Domitian, Galerius, Diocletian,
acted in their proper guise ; but Ximenes, Ferdinand, Mary,
Bonner, glozed their atrocities under colour of evangelic zeal,
and perhaps even the arrogance of their pretensions, and their
sophistry, abated the comfort and courage of many a martyr.

THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
UPON THE ANCIENT CHURCH.
Those who, in terror of Rome, and her lying traditions, may
wish to lay the axe, as they think, to the root of the tree, and to
disclaim in every sense, and to renounce dependence upon, and
appeal to, those extra canonical documents of Christianity which
have come down to us from the early and apostolic churches, may
make the attempt, if they please ; but they must soon find them
selves standing upon ground on which still greater difficulties
than those they run from, are in their way. We cannot, if we
would, cut ourselves off from the benefits which the singular pro
vidence of God has secured for later times, in the preservation of
the various memorials of the early and intervening ages. It is
clear that the sweeping measures which some would recommend,
must, if adopted, leave us our work to do over again, not only in
the present argument, but in our controversy with popery.
All mystification apart, as well as a superstitious and over
weening deference to antiquity disclaimed, nothing can be more
simple than the facts on which rests the legitimate use of the
ancient documents of Christianity, considered as the repositories
of those practices and opinions which, obscurely or ambiguously

UPON THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 39
alluded to in the canonical writings, are found, drawn forth and
iUustrated, in the records of the times immediately succeeding.
These records contain at once a testimony in behalf of the capital
articles of our faith, and an exposition of minor sentiments and
ecclesiastical usages, neither of which can be surrendered without
some serious loss and damage.
How plain is the case before us (putting now aside the momen
tous testimony of the martyr church in behalf of fundamental
truths.) It must be admitted that all things are not so amply
and indubitably laid down in the apostolic writings as to exclude
every doubt ; and in a few instances this indeterminateness of the
canonical books, affects particulars in which we fain must make a
choice, and must adopt, either one course, or its opposite. Now,
what had in fact been done, or recommended, or allowed, by the
apostles, in the churches they personaUy founded, or governed,
could not but be known in those churches during the lapse of a
generation or two ; say, at the least, forty years. But we possess
writings of the men of the approximate generation, and therein
find, as is natural, incidental statements, and innumerable allu
sions to practices and to opinions universally admitted, as of
apostolic origin. Let us sift this evidence as we may, and in
truth it demands, as we shall see, to be severely sifted, and let it
be reduced to the smallest possible amount, yet there remains,
what no man in his senses can deny to be a mass of good histo
rical evidence, touching such or such points of apostolic Chris
tianity. Are we then to listen to this evidence ; or, at the
impulse of some inexplicable qualm, do we resolve not to hear a
word of it ? Or, are we in fact so destitute of historical acumen,
as to render it a hopeless task to discern between the genuine and
the spurious, in this body of materials ? And so, in matters of
exposition, how lightly soever we may esteem the judgment of
the ancient commentators, they possessed, at the least (or many
of them) a vernacular familiarity with the canonical phraseology,
to which it were absurd not to pay a respectful attention. Shall
the men of eighteen hundred years hence — ^the critics and pro
fessors of the universities of Austrafia and New Zealand, pretend
to understand the language and idioms of the divines of the
seventeenth century better than we do, of the nineteenth ?

40 THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
We may, and undoubtedly do, possess a critical apparatus such
as gives us, in certain respects, an advantage over even Origen,
Jerome, BasU, Theodoret, and Chrysostom ; nevertheless they, as
actuaUy speaking and writing, or as being familiar with, the
langviage of the New Testament, possessed prerogatives that can
neither be reasonably denied, nor snatched from them. Origen
-may have been wrong in a hundred instances, but he read the
gospels and epistles so as we can never do, with the fresh famili
arity, and the idomatic contact proper to the perusal of writings
in one's own language, and less than two hundred years old ;
that is to say, precisely as we are now reading Tillotson, Jeremy
Taylor, Barrow, and Baxter. The modern spirit of self-suffi-
-ciency seems to reach its climax in the contempt thrown by some
upon those who, endowed with as much learning and acumen as
ourselves, read the scriptures while the ink of the apostolic auto
graphs had hardly faded.
To the early church also belongs the unalienable advantage of
having expressed its sense of christian principles, previously to
those perturbations of the spiritual atmosphere that arose from
the great controversies of the fourth century, and which left
nothing altogether in its unsophisticated condition. Whatever
of precision or of explicitness in doctrine, might be the fruit of
those controversies, there still attaches, as their characteristic, to
the pristine writers, a straight-forwardness, which has its peculiar
charm, as well as value. Less logical, we grant, and less theolo
gical, and less acute, and less subtle, and sometimes, involved in
worse errors, the earlier writers are more calm, and more re
freshing, than the later, and sooner win our affection, if they do
not, which is certain, secure our confidence.
There is however a still closer dealing with the uses and
claims of the early christian literature, to which the controversies
moved by the Oxford Tract writers, make it necessary accurately
to attend ; and in fact it has already become, or must soon become,
a duty, in no way to be evaded by the leaders of opinion, so to
apply their minds to this subject as to attain a weU defined and
permanent conviction, and such as may guide their decisions on
trying occasions, not very unlikely to arise.
Let us then first state the case of those who, taking up the

UPON THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 41
(modern) protestant pass-word, in its utmost extent of meaning
— ' The bible and the bible alone,' w.ould fain cut themselves off
from aU connexion with every intermediate record, as well as
with every remote community of christians. ' If I have the word
of God itself in my hands, which is able to make me, and all,
wise unto salvation, what is antiquity to me ?'— thus speak many ;
but with how much reason, remains to be inquired.
If it did not frequently happen that vague impressions, the
grounds of which have never been examined, are allowed to exert
an influence, not only over the unthinking and the uninformed,
but over the educated and the intelligent, there could be no need
to dweU for a moment upon a point which, like the one now
before us, barely admits of what deserves to be called argument.
And yet) as every tlung turns upon the clearness and soundness
of the rule which is to be estabhshed in regard to the extent of
the deference due, by the modern church, to the ancient church ;
it would be fatal to the principle we hope to substantiate, to
underrate that deference, in any such way as might leave our
position liable to just and important exceptions.
With aU the brevity possible I wfll propound the case, in the
convenient form of question and rejoinder, the interrogatories
being put by a supposed protestant advocate of antiquity, to one
whose protestantism appears to be somewhat extreme, or incon
siderate : — as thus —
— ' We possess, by the divine favour, the word of God, able,
as we both aUow, and able by itself, that is to say, apart from,
and independently of, any other writings or traditions, to make
men wise unto salvation : but I have two questions to put,
and first, whence, proximately, did you receive this inestimable
gift?'— ' From those who, before me, by the same divine goodness
had possessed and loved it : and of course they, in like manner,
from their predecessors in the faith and hope of the gospel ; and
so from the first.' —
' The bible then is not sent from heaven to us, individually ;
but has been consigned, like aU other books, nay, on the very
same conditions as profane literature, to the hands of successive
generations : that is to say, it has been transmitted, from fathers

42 THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
to sons, and is itself, in this sense, A tradition ; and, fully
agreed, as doubtless we are, concerning the mere facts of the
mode and circumstances of this continuous delivery of the scrip
tures, we may well unite, first, in gratitude to God whose provi
dence has so watched over his written word, as that it has not
merely been conserved, through long periods of confusion and
ignorance ; but has come down to us purer, and more copiously
verified, than any other collection of ancient writings ; but we
may also, as I presume, unite, in a grateful and affectionate sen
timent toward those to whose industry, from age to age, and to
whose constancy and courage, at particular seasons, we are imme
diately indebted for the preservation of the inspired volume.
Thus far, you vrill admit with me the obligation of the modern
church, to the ancient church ? '
' Assuredly : our feeling towards those who, from age to age,
have thus kept and handed down the precious deposit, is precisely
analogous to that of a poor believer upon whom a more opulent
brother in Christ bestows a bible : he thanks the charitable
donor ; but he does not so misunderstand his obligation as to
surrender a particle of his christian liberty and conscience to his
benefactor. Come to us whence it may, the word of God is
absolutely independent of the medium of its transmission from
age to age. The pearl of great price may have traversed stormy
seas ; but it has actually reached our shores, and we have
acquitted our obligation towards those who, at the peril of their
lives, have brought it to us, when we just thank them.'
' Thus far then there appears no ground of disagreement be
tween us. But I have now to put my second question ; and,
well informed as you are on all points of biblical criticism, and of
literary history, I shall be in no danger of shaking your religious
convictions, by propounding my difficulty. On what ground then
do you receive the bible, collectively, or its prophecies, histories,
gospels, and epistles severally, as indeed the word of God ? The
inspired pages do not shine out with any supernatural splendour,
nor do the writers affirm their own canonicity ; or even if they do,
there are spurious writings that contain equivalent asseverations
of divine authority, to wit, the Clementine Constitutions, and
many others, as you need not be told. Or if we think of the

UPON THE ancient CHURCH. 43
collection, as a whole, it is no where made up, and catalogued,
within the book itself. Now I wfll anticipate all that part of
your reply to my question which must refer to the customary,
and, as I grant, unimpeachable internal evidences of the genuine
ness of the books of scripture, severafly, and concerning which we
should have no difference of opinion. The whole of that critical
history of scripture, by which it is proved, beyond possibility of
doubt (concerning most of the books) that, in the ordinary sense
of the phrase, they are genuine, is known to both of us, and is
assented to by both ; and it is further admitted that the proof of
the antiquity and genuineness of the books of the canon involves,
by a sound historical inference, their divine authority, or inspira
tion, leaving us in no doubt whether or not they exhibit the will
of the Lord, to which we owe absolute and impUcit submission,
in faith and practice.
' But now, before I reach my ultimate position, I request you
not altogether to overlook the incidental, and yet ineffably im
portant service that has been rendered to the modern church, by
the ancient church, or, let us say, the long series of christian
writers, who, in their copious, and, for the most part, exact,
quotations of scripture, and by their reverent manner of appealing
to it, have afforded the amplest means, first, of tracking the very
text of scripture, whole and entire, up from age to age, as the
very same text (various readings allowed for) which we now read,
and so a-s to exempt us from all reasonable anxiety concerning
this text ; and secondly, of ascertaining particular readings, with
a degree of assurance which, otherwise, would not have been at
tainable. See then, as well the extent of our obligations to our
christian predecessors, as the intimacy, and the incalculable im
portance of that constant correspondence which the church must
hold with the extant remains of christian literature. Can you
look at the facts of the case, and then dare to say, as some do,
' I hold the bible, and I care nothing for antiquity : — the fathers !
let them faU, one and aU, into the hands of another Omar.' Does
your protestantism go to this length ?'
— ' Need you ask it ? Who that is ever so moderately informed
in such matters can deny, or can wish to disparage the critical
use of the greek and latin church writers ? The aids they afford

44 THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
are, I grant, of inestimable value ; but I can allow all this, and
yet hold them, one and all, very cheap as authorities in doctrine,
or as expounders of scripture, or as examples in practice : and
you do not forget that, in the sense of which we are now speaking,
an heretical father serves us, to the full, as good a turn as an
orthodox one, and that the schismatic Novatian is as available an
authority for establishing a reading, as the orthodox Atha
nasius.' • — ' This admission does not appear to touch the point in debate ;
but would it not sorely grieve many a staunch protestant to hear
you attribute so much importance, even as this, to those whom
they have been taught to think of only as the parents and abettors
of popery ? They would insinuate, I think, that it might be well
to look out for some more thorough-going champion of the good
cause. Let this however pass : you divine what I next intend.
After we have allowed all the force that can be claimed for it, to
that method of proof which, looking solely to the text of an
ancient author, as it is in itself, and to the literary history of the
book, establishes its genuineness, will you affirm that we want
nothing more in deciding the all-important questions that arise
concerning a particular book, or epistle, whether it be canonical,
and a part of God's word or not ? Let us assume the instance of
the second epistle of Peter. The antiquity of the writing is, to a
certain point, clearly ascertained, and moreover, a nice exami
nation of its style and its recondite peculiarities, well supports the
belief that it is what it professes to be ; and that it may safely be
appealed to in support of doctrines and duty. But is the argu
ment in this particular instance concluded ; or is there no other
consideration which ought herein to be regarded V
— ' I know what you intend ; but rather than make my answer
at this point, I request you to state your intention fully. I will
then reply so far as may be necessary to save my protestant
principle.' • — ' I affirm then plainly. That, whatever sufficiency and com
pleteness- we may attribute to the critical proof of the genuineness
and integrity of the text of the several books of scripture, there
is yet a link in the chain of argument wanting, and this link is
supplied by nothing else but the judgment and the testimony

tJPON THE- ANCIENT CHURCH. 4!J
of the ancient church, concerning these books, individually, that
they, and not others (although sustained by specious pretensions)
were the productions of the apostles, and had been, from the first,
so received and reverenced. I say, in deciding the question of
•genuineness or spuriousness, or in discriminating, for instance,
between the ' Gospel of John,' and the ' Acts of Peter,' or in
distinguishing among genuine writings, the inspired from the
nninspired ; the epistles of Paul from those of Clement, Polycarp,
and Ignatius ; we are thrown upon.the judgment and authority
of the early church. Notwithstanding all the exceptions that have
been urged against this averment, when advanced, as it so often
has been, by the advocates of tradition, and notwithstanding the
ill use which has been made of the instance, I must profess to
think that the plain fact carries with it an unquestionable and
important inference, to this effect, namely. That, by the mode
chosen for consigning the sacred writings to after-times, the
divine providence has connected the later with the earlier church,
by a link which can never be severed, and which connexion
implies a general duty of acquainting ourselves with the records
of the early church, and Df yielding such a specific deference to
its testimony and judgment, as is not to be claimed for the church
of any later period. Bring the principle to a test in the instance,
already named, of the second epistle of Peter : — a critical exami
nation of the two epistles affords what the best modern biblists
have regarded as satisfactory evidence of the genuineness of the
latter. But is there any one who, in order to give proof of his
confidence in the sufficiency of this mode of argument, would
refuse to search for references to the epistle in the early writers ?
None would do so ; on the contrary, it is with a lively pleasure
that we find this epistle quoted by Clement, Hermas, Justin,
Athenagoras. This then is the second head of argument, or kind
of proof, available in the case ; and it is such as to leave no rea
sonable doubt concerning the fact of the existence of the epistle
in the age of those writers ; or of its reputed authenticity. But
there is yet a third argument, proper to the subject, and this
consists in that judgment of the whole case which was formed by
the learned divines of the fourth century, who, notwithstanding
the doubts entertained during an early intermediate period,

46 THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
reviewed the evidence, and admitted the epistle into the canon.
Now not only do we assent to this decision as a sound one ; but,
even if we are not absolutely dependent upon it for our own
opinion on so important an occasion, we are yet deeply indebted
to those who thus anticipated the critical decision of modern
scholars ; for, let it be remembered, had these divines otherwise
determined, and had they actually excluded the epistle from the
list of inspired writings, even if it had come down to us at all, the
task would have been one of great difficulty and anxiety, to have
replaced it in the canon, by mere force of criticism. It is very
doubtful whether, so sustained, it would have won the assent of
the church at large : a much more probable, event would have
been its resting to the end of time, under a ban, as apocryphal ;
and thus would the church of all ages have been mulct of much
edification, and moreover deprived of certain points of belief
which rest exclusively upon affirmations contained in that
epistle.' ' Be it so : but without staying to contest the point with you,
as to the relative, or absolute importance attaching to this third
branch ofthe argument, concerning the genuineness and canonicity
of the books of scripture, I may easily grant to you the general
utility of a reference to antiquity, on this single ground, vrithout
compromising my great principle, the bible alone.' 
— ' Nay, you cannot grant so much as this, without, on the
one hand, breaking in upon, and offending the presumption of a
large class of protestants ; and on the other hand, implying all
that I am now careful to secure, namely, a deference, as cautious
and discriminating as you please, due by the modern church, to
the ancient church. I affirm that the Lord himself, by that very
arrangement which has thrown so much importance upon the
TESTIMONY and JUDGMENT of the pastors and divines of the early
ages, in the matter of the discrimination of the inspired writings,
has so far, constituted them our masters ; or, at the least, has
virtually forbidden the attempt to sever ourselves from them.
Nevertheless, and this I most readily grant you, there are urgent
reasons, more than enough, for exercising the utmost possible
caution in yielding this deference, in each single instance in
which it may be challenged.'

UPON THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 47
Consequences affecting every part of the present controversy
flow from the fact of our dependence, in so momentous an
instance, upon the judgment, fidelity, and discretion of the
primitive church. An inference involved in this fact excludes
the extreme opinions, as well of the upholders, as of the impugners
of the authority of antiquity. It is very true that indeterminate
conclusions, such as the one now in view, may easily be spurned
by an opponent, as unworthy of his serious regard ; I am not
however just now thinking of what a determined adversary, pr a
rigorous disputant may choose to allege ; but rather am offering
considerations to one whom I suppose to be wflling to listen to
whatever may appear to deserve the regard of a religious mind ;
whether or not it may be avaflable in a categorical argument.
All surely will agree that the settlement of the question of
canonicity, or the divine authority of each book that is alleged to
bear this sacred character, is one of primary importance ; it is the
preliminary of our faith and duty ; nor can it be supposed that
we are attaching more consequence to the subject than is attached
to it by the Lord himself, who will neither give his honour to
another, nor lightly allow the honour belonging to his authentic
word to be shared by spurious compositions. It is also clear that
so formal an announcement of the canonical writings might have
been given (as for example in an undoubted final epistle of the
last surviving' apostle) as should altogether have superseded either
any reference, on our part, to the judgment of the early church,
or any exercise of that judgment. On the other side, it might
so have been, that several apparently apostolic writings had
descended from the apostolic age, having such internal recom
mendations as would have made the task of discrimination, in
later times, hopelessly difficult ; in which case, we should have
been thrown, without appeal, upon the decisions of antiquity.
But neither of these things has happened to us ; and instead of
either, we find ourselves placed under circumstances, which, in a
very significant manner, blend the conditions of dependence and
independence. We cannot but refer to, and avail ourselves of,
the judgment and decision of the early church, concerning the
canonicity of each portion of the New Testament ; and yet this
decision is not our only resource. Furthermore, the two lines of

48 THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
proof do (and in the opinion of the best modern scholars) so
coincide, as wonderfully to authenticate each other. In each
instance the literary or internal evidence is such as to win our
Approval of the judgment of antiquity ; and again the judgment
of antiquity has neither presented to us, finally, any book which
the internal evidence disallows ; nor has it pronounced against
any extant book, which that evidence might have allowed. The
result is — a rational and firm assurance, more or less entire in
each instance, that the New Testament is constituted of, and
includes, the divinely inspired apostolic writings.
Thus then are we, and all believers to the end of time, con
nected with the pristine church, by an indissoluble and vital cord.
Yet are we not bound to it servilely. Our relation is that of
pupilage, not of bondage. We inherit as sons ; we do not occupy
as serfs : our highest interests have been at the disposal of our
predecessors ; but have not been subjected to an unconditional
despotism. We can no more shake off our dependence to the
extent which it legitimately reaches, than the inheritor of an entail
can dispose of his real estate, as he may of his personals. In
relation to this point, we are neither indulged with the liberty
which the wilfulness of our nature so fondly seeks for ; nor are
we so fettered as the sullen advocates of despotism would wish :
and, placed as we are, it is equally a fault to spurn authority, or
to cringe before it.
Now I must think that our position in this important instance
embodies a general principle, applicable to most of the perplexing
questions now agitated, or likely to be brought under discussion ;
and it is in this belief that I urge the consideration of it. In
many of those cases in which the ambiguous, or incomplete lan
guage of the inspired writers, in incidentally alluding to points
of discipline or faith, has given rise to schismatic diversities of
opinion, we are (as in the question of the canon) by necessity
thrown upon the testimony and judgment of the early church ;
but yet are not thrown thereupon helplessly, or without oppor
tunity of appeal to collateral arguments. Thus, in regard to the
principle of the inherited and transmitted clerical authority, there
is a serious practical meaning in the principle ; nevertheless the
existence of Christianity in the world, or in any particular country.

UPON THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 49
is by no means so involved in it as that, in the event of an
accidental rupture of the chain of ordination, there could be no
more faith or holiness on the face of the earth, or in this or that
region, until a new investiture had been sent down from heaven,
and miraculously attested. A single bible, thrown ashore from
a wreck, might, as we cannot doubt, become the seed of a true
church, in the midst of a heretofore atheistic community. Never
theless such a new and extraordinary germination of the tree of
life would by no means invalidate the general doctrine of the mini
sterial succession. A real dependence, but not an abject, or hope
less dependence, is, as I think, the law of the spiritual economy.
But whatever demur may be raised against the alleged authority
of the ancient church in matters of opinion, and in cases where
the first christians were as liable to error as ourselves, it is clearly
impracticable to exclude their testimony as to matters of fact; and
the operation of this testimony extends, perhaps, rather further
than some appear wifling to admit. It is easy to find iUustra-
tions, real and imaginary, of the deference which (aU superstitious
affection apart) common sense, and the universally admitted
principles of historical criticism, compel us to yield in such cases.
The epistles, for example, contain aUusions, either very slight,
or ambiguous, to many matters of usage, some of them altogether
unimportant to ourselves, and others so connected with discipline,
worship, government, or even doctrine, as to render it, to say
the least, highly desirable to know just so much more as may
serve to exclude controversy on the subject. Now, and as might
have been expected, the very same points are either alluded
to, or are explicitly defined by the christian writers of the next
generation, or of the next age. It would have been strange
indeed if it had not been so ; and equally strange, nay, utterly
absurd, were it, if we were to refuse to avafl ourselves of the aid
of this subsidiary evidence, so far as it may fairly be resorted to.
Did Paul preach the gospel in these islands ? a question of little
or no importance to british christians of the present times, and
yet of some curiosity ; and who is there that would not gladly
gratify so natural a feeling, if the means of doing so be at hand
in the e.xtant written traditions of the early church ? Did Peter
preach the gospel at Rome ; or, if so, did he found and govern

50 THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
the church there ? a question this, which has happened to become
important, and which we must take the same means, if they be
within our reach, for determining.
Now either in the one instance, or the other, nothing can be
less pertinent than the preclusive outcry — ' Oh, the bible, and
the bible alone : I care nothing for what cannot be proved by
texts of scripture.' We may easily find occasions more fit, in
which our zeal for the honour and sufficiency of the inspired
volume may make itself heard. The question is a question of
mere fact; and as such, it is open to those various methods of
proof, or of disproof, which are ordinarily had recourse to in
historical inquiries.
Other instances, variously affected by this same rule, or coming
within its application in different degrees, have often, and especi
ally of late, been adduced ; and some of these will present them
selves, which demand all the acumen, and the diligence that can
be brought to bear upon them. They are, however, all governed
by a general practical principle, not very difficult to be established
or applied (although contested by certain parties) and it is this,
first. That no article of worship, discipfine, government, or opinion,
which, however well attested as belonging even to the apostolic
churches of the first century, is nowhere aUuded to, or enjoined,
in the inspired scriptures, can be binding upon the church in
aftertimes ; for we adhere to the belief, and on this very ground
renounce romanism, that, whatever our Lord intended to be of
permanent observance in his church, he has caused to be included
in the canonical writings : and, secondly, that points so attested
as ancient, and yet very slightly or ambiguously alluded to by
the inspired; writers, are not to be regarded as of prime necessity,
or insisted upon as conditions of communion. The reason of the
first part of our general principle carries with it this second ; for
Wfi may religiously believe that aU points, at once of great moment,
and of universal application, are so affirmed in scripture as to
carry the convictions of humble and docile minds.
I shall have occasion, once and again, in the following pages,
to quote that favourite of the romanists, and, as it seems, of the
Oxford Tract writers, Vincent of Lerins, and therefore wfll not
cite him here, on a merely incidental point ; otherwise, it would

TJPON THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 51
be easy to obtain his explicit sanction to both parts of the rule
now stated. In truth, I would not scruple to refer the contro
versy between the church of Rome, and ourselves (as to its prin
ciples) to the arbitration of this very writer. How can romanists
dare appeal to him, except on the presumption that their opponents
wifl never know more of him than is contained in the passages
they may please to adduce ? I would even venture to argue the
present questions before the same arbiter, and abide by his decision,
fairly taken.
An instance often adduced in this connexion, is that of tho
religious observance of the first day of the week, which, after we
have found it clearly, though not copiously alluded to by the
inspired writers, as the practice of the first christians, is sufficiently
proved, by subsequent testimonies, to have been so observed by
those who immediately succeeded them. This observance is
(not to mention here more general grounds of argument) a well
CONFIRMED TRADITION, taking its rise in the apostolic writings,
and thence onward supported by unquestionable evidence.
Those must create a difficulty, who find any in this instance, in
distinguishing between a proper and necessary appeal to antiquity,
and an unwarrantable and dangerous deference to it. The
religious reason for observing the Lord's day is, that the apostles
themselves, as we fully believe, observed it, and sanctioned its
observance in all the churches which they founded. The historic
reason for believing that they did so, is drawn, partly from the
two or three allusions to it in the New Testament ; and partly,
we might say chiefly, from the incidental and the explicit mention
of the practice by the early christian writers, as well as by Pliny,
Plutarch, and others.
If We imagine ourselves entirely deprived of this latter por
tion of the evidence on this point, it must be admitted that the
argument in support of an institution so vitaUy connected, as it is
found to be, with the very existence of religion in the world,
would be reduced to a slender and precarious inference, or argu
ment from analogy. Here then we are absolutely compeUed, and
those especially who are rigid more than others in their regard to
the Lord's day, are compelled to resort to the aid of ancient
usage, as recorded, not by inspired, but by uninspired writers :
E 2

52 THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN CHURCH
and we may well appeal to the candour of such persons, and ask
them whether, when contending with latitudinarians, on this im
portant subject, they would not eagerly avafl themselves of any
hew and stiU more explicit testimony concerning the usage of the
churches in the apostolic age, supposing some such evidence,
heretofore overlooked, were now suddenly to be discovered. I
presume that they would do so, without allowing any qualm, as
to ' the great protestant principle,' to stand in their way. It is
in -fact a circumstance worthy to be noticed, that even the most
ultra-protestant of ultra-protestants, if it happens to him to meet
with a real or apparent confirmation of his pecuhar views, within
the circle of ecclesiastical antiquity, shows no reluctance whatever
in snatching at it, and in turning it to the best account he can,
piously quoting Irenaeus, or Tertidlian, or Ignatius, fike any good
romanist !¦ It is — ' the bible, and the bible alone,' just when the
evidence afforded, on some disputed point, by the writings of
Ignatius, or Irenaeus, or TertuUian, happens to tell in the wrong
direction ; otherwise, these ' papistical authorities,' are good
enough. The two cases then that have here been adduced (and I pur
posely avoid such as involve controversy) seem to establish,
beyond a doubt, all that we need be concerned for at present ;
and which, expressed as broadly and inoffensively as possible,
amounts to this general principle — That it is as impracticable, as
it would be undesirable, and even irreligious, to detach ourselves
from all dependence upon christian antiquity ; and that, as in the
capital article of the antiquity, and canonicity, and genuineness,
of the books of scripture, so in various matters of discipline,
worship, government, and doctrine, nothing else can be done by
the modern church, but Usten (with just so much deference as may
be due) to the testimony, and judgment of the ancient church.
There may indeed be those who would freely avafl themselves
of the evidence of antiquity in relation to matters of fact, while
they would be extremely jealous of it, pr totally exclude it, in
relation to matters of opinion. Now granting the distinction
between facts and opinions, or doctrines, to be real, and pertinent
too, in the present case, yet surely no one can forget that matters
of opinion, or doctrines, become, to all intents, matters of fact,

UPON the ancient church. 53
whenever they attach to large bodies of men, or communities, for
a length of time, and are customarily professed, and perpetually
repeated. The mahometan doctrines of the unity of God, and of,'
the pleasures of paradise, are not at all less matters of fact, than
are the conquest of Syria, or of Egypt, by the caliphs. And thus p-( ¦
it is that the faith of the ancient church may be ascertained, as a | , ,'
matter of fact, not less easfly, or less certainly, than its sufferings,
or its modes of government, or its spread, in this or that country.
Nor is the ascertaining of such facts, whether of usage, or of
doctrine, so perplexing, or so ambiguous as might be imagined ;
for, as Christianity, instead of its having been cooped up in Judea,
during two or three generations, instantly pervaded all the coun
tries around the Mediterranean, every one of its most conspicuous
elements was so laid open to the observation and report of uncon
nected witnesses, as to exclude coUusion, not merely in regard to
the facts so reported, but in regard to the preparation of the
evidence which has come down to us. In the most unexception
able modes of proof, we may know what was the religious system
of the christian societies of the second century, throughout the
countries between the Euphrates and the Atlantic, and between
the deserts of Lybia and the Danube.
The principle, above stated, (in whatever terms we may choose
to embody it) while it consists with the general laws of the social
system, and is in harmony with the conditions on which all
advancements in knowledge depend, plainly and unavoidably
results from that peculiar economy under which the Lord himself
has placed the gospel dispensation. He has not aUowed his
people, in any age, the undesirable fiberty of cutting themselves
off from all dependence upon their predecessors, any more than
he has left them free to act, as if their conduct, as christians,
would not have an influence over the religious wellbeing of their
successors. The church is one church, stretching throughout the
ages that are to elapse between the first, and the second advent.
But now this dependence of the modern church upon the
ancient church, has in fact been misunderstood, and grievously
abused ; and, moreover, it involves some serious difficulties in
aU cases of controversy. What then remains to be done ? Not
to cut the knot by renouncing the dependence : — this we are not

5i DEPENDENCE OF THE MODERN UPON THE ANCIENT CHURCH.
free to do ; but — and there is no alternative, we are summoned
to exercise, although at the cost of painful labours, a necessary
discrimination, by the aid of which we may avail om-selves,
without abusing it, of the testimony, and judgment of the
ancient church. Some may indeed resent this alleged necessity,
and may have recourse to various expedients to evade it ; but,
their struggles wifl be to no purpose in regard to the cause they
wish to serve ; while there wfll be not wanting some, quick to
perceive, and prompt to turn to their advantage, the argumentative
boon, thus unwisely surrendered to them. It has been nothing
so much as this inconsiderate ' bible alone ' outcry, that has given
modern popery so long a reprieve in the heart of protestant
countries ; and it is now the very same zeal, without discretion,
that opens a fair field for the spread of the doctrines of the
Oxford Tracts.
I venture then, not vrithout diffidence, and yet with a calm
confidence in the soundness of the course I am pursuing, to invite
those who already feel the moment of the controversy set on foot
by the writers of those tracts, and who perceive the double conse
quence which it carries, to enter upon such researches in the
fleld of christian antiquity, as may be found requisite, whether
more or less laborious, for obtaining a well-defined conviction as
to the extent and conditions of the deference that is due to the
practices and opinions of the early church. May He who giveth
liberally, and without upbraiding, as well wisdom, as strength, to
those who are conscious that both must be given from above,
graciously in this instance aid our endeavours !

55

A TEST OF THE MORAL CONDITION OF THE
ANCIENT CHURCH.

So far as the usurpations and the lying pretensions of Rome
may be in view, nothing can be clearer than the course to be
pursued by protestants. Such and such practices, or opinions,
and in which Popery consists, may be proved to be of such or
such a date ; they are therefore not apostolic, they are not
catholic ; they are not even ancient, any more than they are
scriptural : why then should we receive and submit to them ?
' I am catholic, not you,' may every protestant say to every
romanist, and with as full an assurance as that with which tho
genuine Cambrian may say to the Fitzwilliams, the Walters, the
Vilfierses, the Godfreys, ' I am British, not you — my ancestors
had turned this sofl ages before you Normans had set a foot on
the island.' We are not compelled by any logical obligation,
to do more than passively to reject, and resolutely to resist,
romanism, that is to say, the false, debauched, and tyrannous
superstitions of the middle ages. Protestantism, as opposed to
popery, is a refusal to accept innovations, bearing an ascertained
date. Or we might confine our protest against popery within the
pithy denunciations of the romanists' own saint, Vincent of Lerins,
and say with him — Annuntiare ergo aliquid christianis catholicis,
prseter id, quod acceperunt, nunquam licuit, nusquam licet, nun-
quam licebit ; et anathematizare eos, qui annunciant aliquid,
prseterquam quod semel acceptum est, nunquam non oportuit,
nusquam non oportet, nunquam non oportebit.*
But after thus remanding popery until it can show some cause
* Commonitorium, u. 14,

Qt> A test of thl moral condition
why it should be listened to, serious difficulties meet us in our
upward course toward apostolic Christianity ; nor does there
appear to be any summary process by which these difficulties may
be surmounted. By the determined opponents of antiquity they
wifl be stated in terms so strong as must, ff we fisten to them,
lead to the conclusion they desire, namely, an utter rejection oi
whatever comes to us through the contaminated channels of eccle
siastical tradition. Such a one will not fail briskly to put the
question — ' Why draw a line, where there is no important dis
tinction, between the religion of the tenth century, and that of the
ninth, or of the eighth, or of the seventh V or he wfll demand
that we should show that Christianity was in a much purer state
in the sixth century, than in the seventh; or that it had not
become vitally corrupted even in the fifth ; or that, in the fourth,
it retained its essential purity : and if these questions, put in
broad terms, are pushed on toward the earliest years to which
our extant materials extend, a real perplexity will attach to the
answer that is to be given to them : in truth we shall never be
able to deal with the subject in the abstract, or in mass ; for it
means nothing, or nothing as to any practical bearing, either to
say, vaguely, the ancient church was in error ; or, as vaguely,
to deny such a charge. We must descend to the particulars, and
sift the evidence with impartial scrupulosity, and the resiflt,
which we may confidently anticipate, is precisely what a know
ledge of human nature, supported by the evidence of all history,
would lead any calm and phUosophic mind to expect, namely,
that, while the testimony of the pristine church, concerning
certain facts and doctrines, remains unimpeached, and is in the
highest degree important, and while its faith, its constancy, its
courage, its charity, its heavenly-mindedness, are the objects of
just admiration, and imitation ; it had admitted certain specific
errors, and had yielded itseff to some natural but pernicious
impressions, which make obsequiousness toward it on our part,
equally dangerous and absurd. There is surely no mystery in
all this, nor any miracle ; but simply what is in analogy with.
the uniform course of human affairs, even when benefited by the
intervention of heavenly infiuences. Either to worship the
pristine church, or to condemn it, in the mass, would be just as

OF THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 57
unwise, as to treat the church of our own times, or of any other
times, in a manner equally undiscrinunating. But although
there be neither miracle nor mystery in the facts which an im
partial research brings to light, concerning the religious and
moral condition of our christian predecessors, of the early ages,
how much of mystification has darkened the minds of many, in
their notions of antiquity, and how much of what must have been,
had it had place, really miracidous, has virtuaUy and sflently
been attributed to the course of events, in the church, from the
death of the apostles, to the time when it ceases to be any longer
practicable even to imagine any such supernatural control of
ecclesiastical affairs I
In truth, there have been, and are, many (and, as it seems,
some of those who embrace the opinions of the Oxford Tract
writers are of the number) who, while they might perhaps deny
the claim of the martyr church to the possession of miraculous
powers, and disallow the entire series of legends, of the healing
the sick, and raising the dead ; yet cling to the belief that the
church, during the early centuries, was favoured by some more
immediate divine superintendence than is the church of our own
times ; or, in a word, that a species of theocracy, with its Urim
and Thummim, and its Shekinah, had an existence — vigorous at
the first, and gradually fading and melting away, into the merely
human hierarchical economy of the papacy. A notion, such as
this, may indeed appear to be sanctioned by certain of our Lord's
expressions ; but those who entertain it should not forget that,
unless those expressions were intended to be limited to the
apostles and first teachers, they are undoubtedly the property
of the church in all ages, and without any privflege in behalf of
the early ages. And then it wiU foUow that they confer no
other claim to deference, upon the ancient church, than what
belongs to the modern ; and thence also it follows that, if we
actually find, within the precincts of the modern church, strange
and unsightly combinations of high and sacred truths, and solid
virtues, with great errors, and sad delinquencies, so may it have
been, and so was it, in an equal, and, as I think, in even a greater
degree, within the enclosure of the ancient church.
T vrish to avoid in the present argument, employing the

58 A TEST OF THE MORAL CONDITION
phrases — philosophical temper, or philosophical views, lest I
should be so far misunderstood, or misrepresented, as to be
supposed to favour that modern guise of infidelity, called.
Rationalism. Instead therefore, in the present instance, of saying
— we should learn to look at the history of the primitive church
with a philosophic eye, I will only urge the necessity of regarding
the dim objects of those remote times, with the cool and piercing
perceptions of an undamaged eye ; or, in other words, under the
guidance of plain good sense, which, amid all kinds of illusive
appearances, adheres to the constant principle, that human nature,
however much it may have been raised above its ordinary level in
particular instances, has always quickly subsided, and has been
substantiaUy the same, in every age and country. There never
yet has been, on earth, a community of angels : there have been
' saints ;' that is to say, individual men, good and wise in the
main ; but there has been no corporation of saints, any more
than any faultless individuals. Or, if it were allowed, which it
must be, that some periods have very far excelled others in piety
and wisdom, I should still demur to the allegation that the era
immediately foUowing the death of the apostles can claim any
such" pre-eminence. Nay, 1 am compeUed to say, that the
general impression, made by the actual evidence, is altogether of
a contrary kind.
On this subject, important on so many accounts, nothing but
the plain and simple truth, so far as attainable, can render us any
real service, or be accepted by any sound mind ; nor will any
thing but the simple truth, fail to exaggerate, or to pervert our
notions upon most religious subjects : while entertaining any
such illusions, our alternatives will be a servile superstition, or
sheer infidelity.
It does not appear that we have as yet, on any side, obtained,
a matter-of-fact idea of the moral and refigious condition of the
ancient church ; and I am incfined to believe that, whoever may
be successful in eliciting such an idea, and in giving it clearly
to the church at large, will, in so doing merely, have gone far
toward effecting the silent and final disappearance of many inve
terate errors. Nay, I believe that it is on this side that the
fibres of popery itself, will be severed, and so the aggregate of

OF THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 69
errors disengaged from the religious convictions of the civflizsd
world. In the present instance, instead of carrying forward a multi
farious inquiry, concerning twenty topics of early opinion and
practice, I shall select, and confine myself to, a particular topic,
and shaU clear a path, as I go, right onward toward the highest
antiquity. But then this selected subject of inquiry must be
one, not of an incidental, but of an intrinsically important kind ;
and it must have an intimate alliance with the entire ecclesiastical
and religious system of antiquity, and it must, from its peculiar
character, be well adapted to the general purpose of bringing into
view, vividly and distinctly, the general, and the special merits
and faults of the times in question.
Such a subject, recommending itself to our choice, with singu
lar completeness, by its conformity with the above-named con
ditions, is found in the ancient, and the universal opinion
entertained in the christian church, concerning the merits, and
the spiritual efficacy of celibacy, and especiaUy of uncontaminated
virginity ; taken in connexion with the practices thence imme
diately resulting, and the sanctioned institutions to which, in an
early age, it gave rise. With what belongs to romanism, we have
nothing now to do : — nothing with the compulsory celibacy of
the clergy, nothing with the penal rigours of the monastic vow ;
nothing with the corruptions, or the horrors, engendered by this
system when its proper infiuence had come to take its fuU
effect upon the european commonwealth. These things we
altogether remit, or only glance at them in passing ; and direct
our vigilant regards to the very same system in its young days,
and before it had rendered itself opeifly execrable ; and while it
was recommended by some virtues, and bore some substantial
fruits, and was excused by some subsidiary reasons. What we
have to do with, touches — the view taken by the church, of
Christianity, as a moral economy, or ethical system, from the very
earliest times ; it touches too the principles whence sprang the
most ancient notions concerning the mysterious properties of the
sacraments ; it touches intimately the position and the power
of the clergy ; it touches the fundamental doctrines of justifi
cation and sanctification : in a word, it leaves nothing in the

60 A TEST OF THE MORAL CONDITION
theological, or the ecclesiastical systern, of ancient Christianity,
untouched. I offer no apology then, for the choice I have made
in the present instance ; for the momentous controversy now
before the church justifies any means clearly tending to bring it
to a determinate -issue, which a religious writer can wish to re
sort to. Let it be enough that I pledge myself to respect every
pure and manly feefing which should belong to one who is
himself a husband and a father. Very much that properly
belongs to the subject, and which, if adduced, would powerfully
sustain the inference I have in view, can neither be brought
forward, nor more than obscurely alluded to. I shaU cite just so
much as is indispensable, in regard to the important conclusion
toward which we are tending. And at the outset I must profess
my serious and deliberate belief that no other element of ancient
Christianity, so well as the one which I have chosen, would sub
serve the purposes of the general argument, or tend so directly
to open the way for terminating the ominous controversy which
now divides the church.
But a nice question presents itself on the threshold, which may
fairly be put to the writers of the Tracts for the Times, and it is
this — Why they have hitherto avoided, so scrupulously, a subject
which, as they very well know, stands forward as the most pro
minent characteristic of ancient Christianity ? * These learned
persons do not need to be told that, whenever we turn our eyes
toward the dim distance of the pristine ages, there is one glaring
spot, the glitter of which dazzles the sight ; and that this lumi
nous point of the piety of the early church, is — the celestial, or
angelic excellence of virginity. They well know that this
opinion, and the concomitant practice, was no accident of the
system ; but its very nucleus, the emanating centre of feeling
and behaviour ; and that, even putting out of view the extrava
gances of individuals, this opinion comes down to us sanctioned
by the authority of all the most fllustrious doctors and confessors
— the entire catena patrum. They well know that this at least
is no popish innovation ; and that the course pursued, from age
to age, in reference to it, by the romish authorities, was only a
* Since this was written the feeling of these writers on this subject has
been more clearly expressed.

OF THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 61
necessary following up of universaUy admitted principles. They
weU know that, had it been possible, at any moment, during the
first five centuries, to have withdrawn this opinion and these
practices from the ecclesiastical system, the entire structure
of polity and worship must have crumbled to the dust, leaving
nothing but the rudiments of Christianity — a system how vastly
different I
One cannot then but be perplexed with the question. Why this
foremost characteristic of ancient Christianity has been overlooked,
as yet, by the Oxford Tract divines. Let them, if they will,
leave St. Bernard out of their view, for he is a papist ; but how
can they forget Cyprian and Tertullian? let them be silent con
cerning the extravagances of St. Francis, or St. Dominic, but
why do so little justice to Athanasius, to Chrysostom, to Jerome,
to Ambrose, to Augustine, to Theodoret, to Basil, to the four
Gregorys, to Leo, to Benedict, and to a host beside, as to say
nothing concerning that one highly illuminated theme upon
which these great and good men made it their duty and their
glory to expend the prime force of their eloquence, and upon
which they strewed, on all occasions, the gayest and most fra
grant flowers of their flowery rhetoric ? whence has arisen this
oversight ?
A singular oversight it must surely be regarded ; for while
these erudite divines, conversant as they are with christian anti
quity, (more so perhaps than with the real condition of the age
they live in) are, in the tones of a solemn remonstrance, calling
upon the church to retrace its heedless steps, and to realize, so
far as possible, an imitation of the religious notions and practices
of the second and third centuries, and while they would fain
render the apostofic English church a very copy (its sufferings
excepted) of the church as we find it under Dionysius and
Cyprian ; yet exclude from their copy the most characteristic and
prominent feature of their venerable pattern ! If they reply that,
on this one and only point, the doctrine and practices of the
ancient church were mistaken, we grant it indeed ; but must then
go on to say, that the error — theoretic and practical, was of such
a depth and magnitude as to bring the whole system, of which it
formed so principal a part, under grave suspicion, and to render

62 A TEST OF THE MORAL CONDITION
the utmost circumspection indispensable, when we are called upon
to believe, or to do, this or that, because it was believed or done,
by the ancient church.
Unable to conceive of it as possible, that the Oxford Tract
writers can simply have forgotten this leading article of the faith
and morals of the early church, I cannot but plainly express my
conviction that they are not so devoid of worldly discretion, or so
regardless of the temper of the times they live in, as not to have
felt that, to protrude the ancient doctrine concerning the merits
of virginity, at so early a stage of their proceedings, however
' happily omened,' would have been a measure that must have
proved fatal to the cause they are promoting. Whatever whims
or illusions the well-informed classes in this country may,
for a time, give themselves up to, there is among us always
a vigorous good sense, and a strong right feefing, in matters of
morality — a sense of the fair and honest, such as would not have
failed to resent with vehemence, any endeavour, even the most
cautious, to subvert the first principles of the social economy, and
to poison the springs of natural sentiment. Every just and manly
emotion, and every pure feminine emotion, would have been
kindled, and would have covered with shame an attempt to
bring back upon us the demure abominations, and the horrors of
religious cefibacy. The Oxford Tract writers have much yet to do
— an herculean task to perform (not indeed to cleanse the stables
of monkish pietism, but to deluge the land with their filth) before
they may venture so much as to whisper their desire to revive
this great article of ancient Christianity, or to restore to its honours
the — illustrior portio gregis Christi. This flos atque decus eccle-
siastici germinis, is, let them believe it, withered to the root, and
woe and shame to those who may strive to raise a new plant from
its pernicious seeds !
And yet it is hard to say, if certain principles be granted, why
we should not emulate that which the fathers, one and all, con
sidered as the choicest part of Christianity — the ripened, and tha
fragrant fruit of its highest infiuences : if we are to imitate the
subordinate characteristics of the same system, why not its prin
cipal ? Let us, as good protestants, reject with horror the institu
tions of St. Dominic ; but why abstain from those of St. Benedict ?

OF THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 63
We wifl not choose to copy St. Cecifia, but why not foUow St.
Antony ? We loathe perhaps the principles of St. Ignatius
Loyola, but dare we turn away from the soft call of St. Ephrem,
and St. Basfl, when they invite us to rend every social tie by
which we may be connected with the world, and to retire to a
vacant cell, next to their own ?
Our ears have been so much and so long used to the sound
(repeated by protestant writers, one after the other, and without
any distinct reference to facts, and probably without any direct
knowledge of them) of the progressive corruption of Christianity,
and of the slow and steady advances of superstition and spiritual
tyranny, that we are little prepared to admit a contrary statement,
better sustained by evidence, as well as more significant in itself
— namely, that, although councils, or the papal authority, from
age to age, followed up, embodied and legalized, certain opinions,
usages, and practices, which had already been long prevalent in
an undefined form, it very rarely pushed on far in advance of the
feeling and customs of the times ; but that, on the contrary, it
rather followed in the wake of ancient superstitions, expressing,
in bulls, decretals, and canons (which were not seldom of a cor
rective kind) the inherited principles of the ecclesiastical body,
Or to state the same general fact, as it is seen from another point
of view, it will be found true that, if the opinion and sentiment of
the church, at different eras, be regarded apart from the authorized
expressions of the same, there wifl appear to have been far less of
progression than we have been taught to suppose ; and that, on
the contrary, the notions and usages of a later, differ extremely
little from those of an earlier age ; or that, so far as they do differ,
the advantage, in respect of morality and piety, is quite as often
on the side of the later, as of the earlier ages. If particular points
be had in view, it may be affirmed that popery is a practicable
form, and a corrected expression, of the Christianity of the
nicene age.
This is especially the case in reference to the subject which we
have now before us ; nor do I hesitate to affirm, that pages and
pages again, may be adduced from writers of the third and fourth
centuries which, suppressing names and incidental aUusions, an
intelligent reader might easily suppose to have been taken from.

64 A TEST OF THE MORAL CONDITION
those of the twelfth or thirteenth century. What then I am
desirous to place in a conspicuous position, is, the fact that, instead
of a regular and slow development of error, there was a very
early expansion of false and pernicious notions, in their mature
proportions, and these attended by some of their worst fruitSi
This fact is the foundation of our argument ; and in making good
the weighty aflegation, I shall use, not only all requisite dfligence
of research ; but, I hope, a strict and conscientious impartiality.
It may be indeed that later writers express themselves in more
fulsome terms, or in worse taste than the earlier ; and it may be
too that the popes and saints of the middle ages exhibit less
acquaintance with the classic models of style than do the weU-
taught doctors of the fourth century ; but in the substance of
fleir refigious system, and in extent of moral obliquity, they do
not, I venture to say, a whit surpass them. The inference
affecting other and more disputed points of christian morality,
ecclesiastical usage, and theological opinions, will force itself upon
every thoughtful reader.
Well may our vigilance be quickened when respectable romanist
writer are heard affirming (and not without an appeal to good
evidence) as much, in behalf of the characteristic corruptions of
their own church, as certain protestahf§'7 among us are now
affirming in behalf of other ancient practices and opinions, authen
ticated in precisely the same mode, and to the same extent !
' The celibacy of the clergy,' says Alban Butler,* ' is merely
an ecclesiastical law, though perfectly conformable to the spirit of
the gospel, and doubtless derived from the apostles.' -j" We have
then to see whether the proof of the antiquity and universality of
the opinions of which this law was merely a Jormal expression, be
not as complete as can be adduced in support of practices and
principles now urged upon us, because ' ancient and apostolic'
In making good my general allegation, I shall adduce evidence
in proof or illustration of the .foflowing five propositions, which,
if established, may be held to supersede much of the argument,
otherwise requisite, in reference to points now actually under
• Lives of the Saints. S. Paphnutius.
f ' The preference of celibacy, as the higher state is scriptural, and as being
such is primitive.' Dr. Pnsey's Letter to the Bishop of Oxford, p. 212.

OF THE ANCIENT CHURCH. 65
discussion ; at the same time, the passages to be cited will afford
the means of exhibiting in its true colours, the general condition of
the ancient church, moral and religious, and wfll therefore serve
to dissipate the illusions that are apt to surround the objects of a
remote antiquity. My propositions are —
I. That the lapse of eight hundred or a thousand years exhibits
very fittle, if any, progression, in the quality or extravagance of
those notions which gave support to the practices of religious
cefibacy ; and that the attendant abuses of this system were
nearly as flagrant at the earlier, as at the later date.
II. That, at the very earliest time when we find these notions
and practices to have been generally prevalent, and accredited,
they were no novelties ; but had come down from a still earlier era.
III. That, as these notions and practices are of immemorial
antiquity, so did they affect the church universal — eastern, western,
and african : and that thus they come fully within the terms of
the rule — quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus.
rV. That these opinions and practices, in their most extreme
form, including the vrild fanaticism of the Egyptian Solitaries,
and the celibacy of the clergy, received an ample and explicit
sanction, from all the great writers and doctors of the church,
during the most prosperous and enlightened age of any, preceding
the reformation ; and that, on this head, popery has no peculiar
culpability. V. That the notions and practices connected with the doctrine
of the superlative merit of religious celibacy, were at once the
causes and the effects of errors in theology, of perverted moral
sentiments, of superstitious usages, of hierarchical usurpations ;
and that they furnish us with a criterion for estimating the
GENERAL VALUE OF ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY ; and, in a word,
afford reason enough for regarding, if not with jealousy, at least
with extreme caution, any attempt to induce the modern church
to imitate the ancient church.

6G

THE CELIBATE— EARLIER AND LATER.

My first thesis then is to this effect —
That no essential change, or material enhancement is to be
traced, as having taken place during the course of many centuries,
dating from what is caUed the pristine age of the church, in regard
to the notions entertained concerning the merit and angelic virtues
of celibacy; and that some ofthe extreme evils usually considered
as inseparable from these notions, attached to them from the
earliest times ; or in other words, that the vices and absurdities of
romanism, on this ground, are only the vices and absurdities of
ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY.
For the purpose of establishing the position here assumed, and
which, if actually made good, may go far toward clearing a path
over the ground of the present controversy, I shall study brevity
and condensation, as far as may consist with a satisfactory and,
if it were possible, a final treatment of this initial portion of the
argument. It will manifestly be requisite to adduce passages,
first, from some two or three of the authenticated writers of the
later and mature times of romanism, by the side of which must be
placed analogous, or parallel quotations from the leading ante-
nicene fathers ; and on a comparison of the two, it will be for calm
and candid minds to determine whether my first thesis affirms
more than ought to have been asserted.
It was not, as I have already said, the authorities of the romish
church — popes, cardinals, councils, that pushed forward the system
of spiritual prostitution, superstition and tyranny ; but much

THE CELIBATE  EARLIER AND LATER. 67
rather a deeply-working spirit acting from within the church ;
and this spirit is one and the same, whether uttering itself from
the fervid lips of St. Dominic de Guzman, or St. Bernard, or the
not less fervid lips of a father of the second and third century.
This spirit proved itself in fact to be far more potent than the
authority which the popes themselves exerted, even about the
walls of the Vatican. A curious instance presents itself, which
may serve as a commencement of this series of testimonies. So
late as the twelfth century many of the monastic institutions con
tinued to be of an open kind ; that is to say, some of the religious
establishments were merely lodging houses, for persons professing
more assiduity in the offices of piety than their neighbours ; and
where the freest access was allowed to the parents and friends of
the (mis-called) recluses. In other cases, even residence in the
nunnery was dispensed with, so that those who had enrolled them
selves as members of a certain society, and as intending to adhere
to the rules of the order, continued to live with their friends ;
and to mix pretty freely in general society.* This laxity of prac
tice, open as it must have been to abuses, and tending to weaken
much the hold which the church might have had over the entire
system, had long engaged the zealous endeavours of Innocent III.
to redress it ; but he, despot as he was, had laboured with little
success, even in Rome itself, to effect an absolute incarceration of
aU who had bound themselves by the monastic rules, and to
seclude them effectively, not from the world merely, but from
their nearest relatives. The letters of this pope betray, at once,
his extreme anxiety to bring about this necessary reform, and the
vexation with which he witnessed the small success of his endea
vours. But wherein a pope, and such a pope as Innocent III.
fails, and confesses himself overmatched, a Dominic-f- easily
triumphs, after only a second effort, and without the necessity of
exhibiting more than a single and a customary miracle. To the
vagrant and giddy nuns of Rome, this saint had offered his own
• The decretals of Gregory IX. (p. 962, and elsewhere) show that these
practices were then becoming less frequent ; in other words, that the abuses
deplored by the nicene writers, were at length remedied by the church of
Rome. t Lives of the Saints, St. Eominic.
F 2

68

THE CELIBATE 

newly erected monastery, in that city ; with the hope of tempting
them to abandon the laxity of their practices ; and at length he
obtained their reluctant consent to make this sumptuous palace of
poverty their abode, and their prison. Their alarmed relatives
succeeded, however, in bringing them to renounce so inconsiderate
a promise ; nor was it until after a new and more strenuous ex
ertion of his spiritual influence, that the saint finaUy triumphed
over the impulses, as well of their better, as of their worse natures.
On Ash- Wednesday, 1218, the abbess, and some of her nuns —
the elder sisters probably (of the monastery of St. Mary beyond
the Tiber) went to take possession of their new abode ; where
they found already, St. Dominic in conference with three cardinals
— commissioners, in this instance, with himself. But hardly had
the first compliments passed between these reverend persons,
when it was suddenly announced by a messenger, tearing his hair
to admiration, that a young nobleman, named Napoleon,* and
who was the nephew of one of the said cardinals, had just been
thrown from his horse, and — killed on the spot ! Forthwith the
conference is broken off, and the lifeless and lacerated body is, by
command of the ' thaumaturgiis of the age,' brought within doors :
mass is said — the saint, in celebrating the divine mysteries, shed
a flood of tears, and whfle elevating the body of Christ in his pure
hands, he was himself, in an ecstasy, lifted up a whole cubit from
the ground, in the sight, and to the amazement, of all who were
present. After a while, and as might have been expected, whfle
St. Dominic himself continued suspended in the air, he cried, with
a loud voice, ' Napoleon, I say to thee, in the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ, arise.' That instant, in the sight of the whole mul
titude, the young man arose, sound and whole I What then could
the refractory or reluctant nuns of St. Mary do, but, at the bidding
of this raiser of the dead, rush into the net prepared for them ;
and pine away the residue of their years, within the gloomy walls
of the monastery of St. Sixtus ?
But now, you wifl say, all this is mere popery ; and what have
we to do with its superstitions, or with the impious frauds which,
* This moming-star of the race of Napoleon, could, no doubt, sham dead
as handsomely, and naturally, as his illustrious namesake, of our times, acted
the part of a good mussulman, or a good catholic, when needful.

EARLIER AND LATER. 69
from age to age, have been perpetrated to give them credit ?
What we have to do with these things is this — to retrace the
course of time, a thousand years, or nearly as much, and there and
then to discover, in the bosom of the pristine and martyr church,
not perhaps the very same forms, usages, frauds, foUies ; but yet
those substantial elements of religious opinion, and of moral sen
timent, which gave support to all these abominations, and apart
from which they would never have had existence. This then is
the gist of our present argument — that there is absolutely nothing
in the ripe popery of the times of St. Dominic (certain elaborate
modes of proceeding excepted) which is not to be found in the
Christianity of the times of Cyprian or of Tertullian ; and even if
we do not find the same villainous frauds, in the earlier age, we
find not less laxity of manners.
The last named father I reserve to be placed side by side with
a kindred spirit of the middle ages ; and at present turn to the
mild, undoubtedly pious, and judicious, as weU as eloquent, martyr
archbishop of Carthage. Let us then, at a leap of one thousand
years, pass the dark abyss of popery, and imagine ourselves fairly
landed upon the terra firma of pristine purity — the realm of the
stfll bleeding and voluntary church, whence may be descried, like
a waning twilight, the brightness of the apostolic age. The pas
sages I am to offer are not merely highly significant, in themselves,
and indispensable as links in our argument, but they tend directly
to lay open what was the real condition, spiritual and ecclesiastical,
of the early church. In abridging, so far as may be requisite,
my quotations, and in taking single expressions from paragraphs,
I stand pledged (and am open to an easy rebuke if detected in
any wilfid perversions) to omit nothing which, if adduced, might
serve to contravene the inference I have in view ; and if, on the
other hand, I am compelled to retrench not a little which would
most pointedly support that inference, I do so in deference to the
propriety which modern refinement prescribes. Whoever will
look into the authors cited wfll, I am sure, admit that, to have
availed myself of the materials before me in a less scrupulous
manner, would not a little have strengthened the position I
maintain. You wifl tell me that you are already famfliar with the passages

70 THE CELIBATE — ¦
which you foresee I shall fix upon ; and that the general facts
which they are adduced to illustrate, are sufficiently understood,
and generally admitted. This may perhaps be true, although
one would not think it when one listens to the customary style,
either of the favourers of antiquity, or of some of its impugners,*
who, on the one part, seem to be discreetly concealing the real
and simple facts, which, on the other side, appear to be but
confusedly apprehended. The time, however, is come when it is
indispensable that we should make ourselves authentically familiar
with whatever we have the means of knowing, concerning ancient
Christianity. At a time not more remote from the apostolic age, than we, of
this generation, are from the times of Barrow, Tillotson, Taylor,
Baxter, we find every element of the abuses of the twelfth cen
tury, and not the elements only, but some of those abuses in a
ripened, nay, in a putrescent condition.
Cyprian, with his presbyters, writes in reply to Pomponius,-|- a
suffragan bishop, who had reported certain scandals, in treating
which he needed advice. From this letter it appears that the
rash profession of virginity, forced upon multitudes of young
women, in some moment of artificial religious excitement, had
been too late repented of by many of its victims, who, finding
themselves cut off from the virtuous endearments of domestic life,
had rushed into irregularities, loading their conscience at once
with a real, and a supererogatory guflt, and had, under the colour
of spiritual intercourse with the clergy, to whose care they had
been consigned, and who themselves generaUy professed conti
nence, admitted the grossest famfliarities, and thus had diffused
an extreme corruption of manners among the very men to whom
was entrusted the moral welfare of the people. So early had
this false fervour produced its proper fruit, and had ulcerated,
in its vitals, the body of the church I ' Concerning those,' says
Cyprian,J ' who, after having solemnly devoted themselves to
. * No reader either of Mosheim, Milner, or Neander would fully understand
the state of things which is plainly implied in the language of Cyprian and
others. t Epist. 4.
I . . . . detects sint postea in eodem lecto pariter mansisse cum masculis;
ex quibus unum Diaconum esse dicis ¦, plane easdem quffi se cum viris dor

earlier and later. 71
continence, have been found cohabiting with men, yet professing
themselves inviolate, you have desired my advice. You weU
know that we do not recede from the evangelic and apostolic
traditions .... and that, in regard to the welfare of afl, church
discipfine is to be maintained .... wherefore it is by no means
to be aUowed that young women should live with men. If indeed
they have cordially dedicated themselves to Christ, let them mo
destly and chastely, and without subterfuge, hold to their purpose,
and, thus constant and firm, look for the reward of virginity —
prasmium virginitatis. — But if in fact they will not so persevere,
let them marry.'
Take your Cyprian from the shelf, and tell me whether the
passages, and the expressions I have omitted, do not make it
certain, that this pretended ' apostolic institution,' namely, reli
gious celibacy, or, as it was called, ' espousals to Christ,' had not
already, and even amidst the fires of persecution, become the
occasion, in a very extensive degree, to licentious practices, which
must have been fatal to aU piety, as well as frightful in them
selves. In truth, if we are thinking either of the preservation
of morality at large, or of the purity of the church in particular,
I could not for my own part, hesitate to prefer the tremendous
irreversible vows, and the dungeon monasteries of later times, to
the loose fanatical profligacy of the times of Cyprian.
' And if aU,' continues this truly faithful pastor, * are bound to
observe a necessary discipfine, how much more are those bound
to do so who should afford an example to others ! How shaU they,
the clergy — ^praepositos et diaconos, be guides in the path of piety
and virtue, if, in fact, from them proceeds a contaminating warranty
of vice ! . . . . Thou hast therefore well done in withdrawing from
the deacon and others — qui cum virginibus dormire consueverunt.'
misse confessae sint, asseverare se integras esse. Single instances of disorder
would support no argument j but the passages to which I shall have to refer
hereafter make it certain that a shameless profligacy has from the first to the
last been the attendant of the monastic system : in other words, that human
nature being always the same, a vicious practice shows its proper quality in
every age alike. It was more than a few who had abandoned themselves to
these indecencies. — Denique quam graves multorum ruinas hinc fieri vide-
mus, et per hujusmodi illicitas et periculosas conjunctiones corrumpi plurimas
virgines cum summo animi nostri dolore conspicimus.

(-i the celibate 
Nothing could place in a stronger light the absurdity, and the
revolting abuses, inseparable from this ancient error, than to
mention the degrading, as well as precarious condition upon
which, by Cyprian's direction, was to depend the restoration of the
suspected, to the communion of the church — a condition of which
he had himself intimated his distrust (cum .... ssepe fallatur)
but this we forego, only remarking the significant fact, as attaching
to so early a time, that already a rational solicitude concerning
the spiritual and moral state, had been displaced by a fatal
regard to what was external and formal. Did the religious cha
racter of these suspected ladies gain any real warranty from the
report of the obstetrix ? Or were their clerical associates ren
dered more fit teachers of Christianity by the issue of any such
ordeals ? Already had the first principles of the social system,
as divinely constituted, been so perverted, and the sentiments of
real virtue so broken in upon, by this pernicious system of facti
tious piety, that the sexes could no longer be suffered, with any
safety, even to live together under the same roof! and thus, as
it regarded the ministers of religion, at least, the whole of that
genial influence which is found to result from christianized
domestic relations, was turned aside ; and in its place came
habits and modes of feefing, which may not be spoken of. All
this sprang from the desire to make up a loftier religion than
that which God had given to the world I
The pafliations that may be found for these grievous errors,
and the almost inevitable infatuation which held the minds of
those who had been trained to support and reverence them, and
the relation they bore to the extreme corruptions of the times,
and also to the frequent and severe sufferings to which the church,
during three centuries, was exposed — these themes of extenua
tion are not now our subject ; — an occasion may perhaps present
itself, for offering a general apology in behaff of those whom
now we are compelled to arraign. What we have at present to
do with, is the fact of the early prevalence of a religious fllusion ;
and the inferences this fact involves- Let this however be said,
that the church, looking abroad upon the universal and frightful
dissoluteness of the heathen world, conceived the beUef that the
enormous evfl could never be amended by applying to it the

earlier and later. 73
simple and natural morality promulgated by Christ, and his
apostles ; but they thought it could be counteracted, if at aU, by
nothing but a species of virtue, exaggerated in a proportionate
degree. This artificial purity, was then a violent reaction, ending,
as might have been foreseen, and as every convulsive moral
struggle must, in a correspondent corruption, not merely of
manners, but of principles. It is curious, in this point of view,
to compare the good Cyprian's rhetorical description of the dis
soluteness of his times* with the facts admitted, or indicated, by
himself, in his honest endeavours to repress the spreading plague
within the church ; not that the practices themselves were
equally flagitious ; nevertheless they were rendered the more
culpable by those advantages of light in which the heathen had
no part.
How much turns often (and it is an observation perpetually
offering itself in the perusal of church history) upon an insensible
substitution of a technical, for the general and genuine sense of
an ethical term ! It was just by the aid of some of these hardly
perceptible substitutions, that the eminent men we have now to
do with (and Cyprian not less than any) found the means of
gaining an apparent scriptural warranty for practices flagrantly
contravening the spirit and meaning of scriptural morality. Thus,
it is that he reiterates his quotations from the psalms, and the
book of proverbs, in support of that ecclesiastical discipline
which the vow of celibacy involved, by adducing texts in which
the instruction, correction, or reproof recommended by David or
Solomon, is rendered disciplina, in the latin version of the Old
Testament, which he used : as thus — ' Those who refuse instruc
tion shaU perish,' or, as the latin has it, — ' those shall perish,'
and under the anger of the Lord, who infringe the rules of this
artificial discipline, enjoined for enforcing the system of factitious
purity. TertuUian, ¦]¦ some time before, had appropriated this
term in the same manner. The greek church writers employ the
word ' phflosophy,' in a sense nearly equivalent.
* Ad Donatum.
t The phrases, disciplina pressior, disciplina principalis, disciplina mono-
gamise, which were entirely technical, gradually excluded the more general
sense of the word.

74 the celibate —
But we have yet to see what those generally received notions
were, to which the shepherds of the church ordinarfly appealed,
when handling the subject of refigious cefibacy, and which so
sober-minded a prelate as Cyprian afleges as the foundation of
his commands and exhortations, when labouring to repress the
abuses which, at this early period, had come in like an inundation
upon the church. An exposition of these notions and opinions
we find placed in the front of the treatise, or dehortation, De
Habitu Virginum. These virgins were those who had dedicated
their bodies, as well as their souls, to the Lord, and who, under
the designation of the spouses of Christ, held in some of the
churches, a distinct place as a visible order, or sodality, in the
ecclesiastical system, taking rank above the class of widows, and
second only to the confessors, or those who had triumphantly
sustained torture, from the hand of the heathen.
Now it appears, too plainly, from the stern reprobations, and
the indignant, yet repressed flourishes which mark this treatise,
that a laxity, nay a licentiousness, hardly to be befieved, and little
suspected by the general readers of church history, had become
too common among these religious ladies, of the Carthaginian
church. In fact, it cannot be doubted that, to indemnify them
selves for the abjuration of the virtuous happiness of domestic
life, they had become proficients in every meretricious allurement,
not merely bestowing extraordinary cares and cost upon the
attractions of dress and jewellery, and frequenting scenes of inde
cent revelry, but inviting and allowing gross famifiarities on the
part of their spiritual guides, who had a too easy access to them ;
and even yielding themselves to shameless exposures in the public
baths, of which ablutions the good bishop smartly says, such
washings, do not cleanse, but pollute the body, and not only the
body, but the soul. That the indecencies of the Carthaginian
nuns were not a single instance of irregularity, may be gathered
from the detailed reference to the same practices made, some
years earlier, by Clement of Alexandria, who in fact uses expres
sions which one might believe Cyprian to have read.
' But now,' continues our zealous and upright prelate, ' now I
have to address myself to the virgins whom, as their reputation
is so much the more exalted, we must make the objects of a

earlier and later. 75
proportionate care. These in truth are the flowers of the eccle
siastical plant, the beauty and ornament of the heavenly grace ;
a gladsome produce, a work whole and incorrupt of honour and
praise ; the image of God, reflecting the sanctity of the Lord,
and the most illustrious portion of Christ's flock. By these,
and in these, is the noble fecundity of mother church recom
mended, and made copiously to flourish ; and just by so much as
this plentiful virginity swells its numbers, does the mother herself
augment her joys. It is to these then that I speak, it is these
I proceed to exhort ; yet in affection, rather than in the tones of
authority.' *
I must here remark that, already, the inevitable tendency of a
system, essentially superstitious, to fix the attention, even of the
best men, with more solicitude, upon what is extrinsic and
symbolic, than upon what is moral, spiritual, and rational, had
developed itself, in Cyprian's time — indeed it is the general
characteristic of the early (as of later) church writers ; and it is
the capital article of the contrast which so forcibly strikes us, in
comparing the entire body of ancient religious literature, with
the scriptures. The apostles, without contemning or forgetting
that which is exterior, give aU their serious cares to that which
is substantial — to the weighty matters of the soul's condition,
spiritual and moral. The fathers, on the contrary, without con
temning, or altogether forgetting, that which is substantial, are
perpetually fretting themselves and chafing, (like their modern
admirers) about that which is subsidiary only, and visible ; — the
form, the institution, the discipline, the canon, in a word, the
husk of religion ; fondly thinking that, so long as the rind and
shell of piety could be preserved without a flaw, there could be no
doubt of the preservation of the kernel I Alas I these ill-directed
anxieties left the adversary, at his leisure, to perforate the shell,
and to withdraw the kernel almost to the last atom ! Thus our
good bishop, like his ' master,' Tertullian, shows too much
anxiety concerning what is incidental only, and while he demands
virtue and piety, says too little of the vital impulse whence they
spring. ' How shaU they receive the wages of virginity, which they are
* De Habitu Virginum.

76'

THE CELIBATE 

looking for from the Lord, unless it be evident that they are
labouring to please him, and none other ? . . . . What then can such
have to do with those terrestrial decorations which are attractive
to the eyes, not of the Lord, but of men ? as Paul says — I, if I
seek to please men, am no longer the servant of Christ. What
do ornaments mean, what means decking of the hair, except to
one who either has, or who is seeking a husband ? . . . . Peter
dehorts married women from an excessive ornamenting of their
persons, who might plead, in excuse of their fault, the wfll and
taste of their husbands ; but what excuse can virgins find for a
like regard to dress, who are fiable to no such interference ? . . . .
Thou, if thou goest abroad, frequenting public places, sump
tuously arrayed, aUuring the eyes of youth, drawing after thee
the sighs of admirers, fomenting lawless passions, and kindling
the sparks of desire, and even, if not destroying thyself, destroying
others, and presenting to their bosoms a poisoned dagger, canst
not excuse thyself on the pretence of preserving a mind pure and
modest. Thy pretext is shamed by thy criminal attire, and thy
immodest decorations, nor shouldst thou be reckoned among the
maids of Christ, who so livest as if wishing to captivate, and to
be loved by, another.'
After reprehending, at length, and on various grounds, costly
and meretricious decorations of the person — the means and mate
rials of which, says the good bishop, following TertuUian, were
given to mankind by the apostate angels, he proceeds to specify
and reprove stiU more criminal excesses which had become matter
of scandal, within and without the church, and had afforded too
much colour to the calumnies of the heathen. Such were, the
being present at weddings, ' and hearing and taking part in
licentious conversations, hearing what offends good morals, and
seeing what must not be spoken of ... . What have the virgins
of the church to do at promiscuous baths ; and there to violate
the commonest dictates of feminine modesty ! * The places
(baths) you frequent, are more filthy than the theatre itself: — all
modesty is there laid aside, and with your robes, your personal
* Sordidat lavatio ista, non abluit ; nee emundat membra, sed maculat
Impudice tu neminem conspicis, sed ipsa conspiceris impudicc : oculcs tuos
turpi oblectatione non polluis, sed dum oblectas alios, ipsa pollueris

earlier and later, 77
honour and reserve are cast off ... . Thus it is that the church so
often has to weep for her virgins ; so does she bewail their infamy,
and the horrid tales which get abroad . . . . '
' Listen then to him who seeks your true welfare — lest, cast
off by the Lord, ye be widows before ye be married, adulteresses,
not to husbands, but to Christ, and after having been destined to
the highest rewards, ye undergo the severest punishments .... For
consider, while the hundred-fold produce is that of the martyrs,
the sixty-fold is yours ; and as they (the martyrs) contemn the
body, and its delights, so should you. Great are the wages
which await you, if faithful — the high reward of virtue, the great
recompense to be conferred upon chastity. Not only shall your
lot and portion (in the future life) be equal to that of the other
sex ; but ye shall be equal to the angels of God ! '
So much then for the zealous and upright Cyprian, and his
delinquent band of ecclesiastical virginity, at Carthage, and so
much for the venerable sanctity of the pristine age ! It will be
granted, I think, that the urgent controversy which we have now
to do with, and which turns so much upon the alleged authority
of antiquity, renders this species of evidence, unpleasing as it is
in itself, yet pertinent and even indispensable in reference to the
general question. I cannot however proceed to call in my next
pair of witnesses, without adverting to a fact which forces itself
upon every well informed and reflecting reader of the early
christian writers, I mean the much higher moral condition, and
the more effective discipline of the romish church in later times,
than can with any truth be claimed for the ancient church, even
during its era of suffering and depression. Our ears are stunned
with the outcry against the ' corruptions of popery.' I boldly
say that popery, foul as it has ever been, in the mass, might yet
fairly represent itself as a regulated form of early Christianity. Do
not accuse me of the wish to startle you with paradoxes. I wifl
not swell my pages with quotations from modern books that are
in the hands of most persons. In truth, volumes of un
impeachable evidence might be produced, establishing the fact,
that the later romish church has had to boast eminent virtues, in
connexion with her monastic institutions ; and I think, virtues
better compacted, and more consistent than belonged to the earlier

78 THE celibate —
church. Or, to refer to a single instance, look hito the various
narratives that have been published relating to the Port-royal in
stitution, as governed by the illustrious Angelica Arnauld. There
was popery entire ; every element of the system developed, and
expanded, under the fervours of the most intense refigious
excitement ! I beg you then, in idea, to place, by the side of this
band of virgins of the seventeenth century, Cyprian's decus et
ornamentum, of the martyr times of the church ! If you say
these are picked instances, I deny it, so far as my argument is
concerned in the comparison ; and I affirm the general fact, that
the measures taken by the romish church, at different periods,
to enforce the celibacy of the clergy, and to bring the monastic
institution under the tremendous, but necessary sanctions which
at length were resorted to for holding it entire, were, in the main,
measures of reform, found, by abundant and lengthened expe
rience, to be indispensable as the means of repressing the worst
abuses ; — that is to say, so long as the core of the institution —
the ancient doctrine concerning celibacy, was to be maintained in
the position it had held, as an essential element of Christianity.
The plain fact is, that this hinging article of ancient Christianity,
after having been, from century to century, embodied in a less
compact form, and its usages enforced with less rigour, and after
having, in this loose form, ulcerated the church in a frightful
manner, was at length brought into some order by the strenuous
hand of authority, aided indeed by the mad fanaticism of certain
fiery spirits. The venerable doctrine of the merit of religious
celibacy has proved itself to be utterly impracticable under any
conditions less severe than those which have, since the middle
ages, rendered the refigious houses, when vigorously governed,
dens of cruelty and despair. But then nothing can be more
inequitable than to charge these horrors upon romanism. The
church of Rome has done, in these instances, the best it could, to
bring the cumbrous abomination bequeathed to it by the saints
and doctors and martyrs of the pristine age, into a manageable
condition. And if we are to hear much more of the ' corruptions
of popery,' as opposed to ' primitive purity,' there will be no alter
native but freely to lay open the sewers of the early church, and
to allow them to disgorge their contents upon the wholesome air.

EARLIER AND LATER. 79
We must now however pursue our proposed chain of evidences
a little further, and for the purpose of substantiating, by more
than one or two instances, the general proposition, that the lapse
of many centuries, though it might give form and consistency to
certain mistaken notions, did not materiaUy, if at all, advance the
PRINCIPLES whence the whole system originated. This point is,
in my view, of pecufiar importance in relation to the controversy
at present agitated, and I must be pardoned if I seem to be
taking unnecessary pains in estabfishing it : on these subjects
misapprehensions have extensively prevailed, which vriU not
easfly give way. Before we reprobate popes, councils and ro
manist saints, let us fairly see what sort of system it was which
the doctors and martyrs of a high antiquity had delivered into
their care and custody. We protestants are prompt enough to
condemn the pontiffs, or St. Bernard ; but let inquiry be made
concerning the Christianity embodied in the writings of those
to whom popes and doctors looked up, as their undoubted
masters. There can hardly be a more pertinent comparison, in relation
to our present purpose, than the one I now institute between the
iUustrious and highly gifted abbot of Clairvaux, and his fiery
predecessor in the same field of labour, TertuUian. In such a
paraUel we find, brought into apposition, not indeed the formal
institutions, and the legalized practices of the ancient, and of the
later church, which are circumstantials only, and variable, and of
no importance in relation to any controversy that can be carried
on among protestants ; but the intimate character, or, as lord
Bacon would have termed it, the ' inner form,' of the two systems,
which in truth are not two, but one and the same. An interval
of nine hundred years is surely a sufficient space for showing the
gradual operation of time, in modifying opinions, and usages,
whether secular or ecclesiastical. If fittle or no progression be
discernible within the compass of almost a thousand years, we
may pretty confidently assume that the system in question had
reached its maturity at the earfiest date. In truth, the period
marked off from the entire field of church history, by these two
remarkable names, TertuUian and St. Bernard, may properly be
considered as inclusive of all those characteristics of ancient

80 THE CELIBATE 
Christianity, which can have any bearing upon modern contro
versies. Popery has at no moment of its entire existence, been
more itself, than it was in the age of St. Bernard, and of his
nurseling, Eugene III., nor is ancient Christianity, as distin
guished from the Christianity of the New Testament, to be met
with any where else (at this early date) so vividly pictured, as in
the writings of the african presbyter. Nor can any fair demur
be taken against him (so far as my present purpose is concerned)
either on the general ground of the intemperance and extra
vagance of his dispositions, or the particular ground of his fall
into montanism ; inasmuch as I shall avail myself of his expres
sions only so far as they may fairly be considered as indicative of
sentiments prevalent at the time, as well as of practices not then
new ; and so far too, as these expressions and sentiments were
afterwards caught up, authenticated, and expanded, by the series
of catholic writers, beginning with his contemporaries, and on
wards. In this instance I foresee and preclude the objection
which will be raised against TertuUian's evidence, by confining
myself to passages which, whether taken from his earlier or his
later — his orthodox, or his heterodox writings, may be matched,
substantially, in the works of the most orthodox and the most
esteemed fathers.
But it is necessary to my purpose, first to give a sample of the
ripe Catholicism (in this particular feature of the ecclesiastical
system) of the twelfth century ; and then to compare with it, the
boasted purity of the second or third century ; that is to say, of
a period when the immediate successors of the apostles were still
personally remembered.
The religious course, character, and writings of St. Bernard
are, in a very extraordinary degree, fraught with instruction, and
I should venture to say that a dispassionate statement of what this
eminent man felt, and professed to feel, and of what he did, and
of what he incited others to do, or permitted them to cloak with
his name, would afford as effective a caution as could be found
against the lamentable fllusions by which fervent religious minds,
in every age, have been endangered. At the present moment,
the unexpected appearance, and prevalence of a species of religion
vividly exemplified in the character and conduct of St. Bernard,

earlier and later. 81
mark him as the very instance which young and ardent minds
should seriously consider.
The spirit-stirring writings of this father — as entertaining often,
as they are instructive, abound with tender, as well as vehement
and vituperative reproofs of the corruptions prevafling in his
times, and especially of the abuses which, in every age, have
been connected with the unnatural doctrine and practice of reli
gious cefibacy. A volume might be fiUed with these remonstrant
passages. ' Heartily do 1 wish,' says he,* addressing the clergy,
¦ that it were more the practice among us, of those who undertake
to build a tower, to sit down first, and cotmt the cost, lest haply
they find themselves wanting in the means to finish their work.
Heartily do I wish that those who, as it seems, have so little
command over their passions, and rashly make profession of per
fection, would scruple to enrol their names in the lists of celibacy.
Costly indeed is this tower, and of great import is that word
which ' all cannot receive,' Better far were it to secure salvation
on the low level of the faitliful commonalty, than, in the loftiness
of the clerical dignity, to five worse than they, and to be judged
more severely.' Expressions these, very nearly resembling those
of C3rprian, above cited.
One's heart might bleed in following some of St. Bernard's
amplifications, on this subject. But no proof of the impractica
bility, or of the pernicious tendency, or of the cruelty of this main
article of ancient Christianity, could avail to lead even those who
best understood human nature, to cafl in question either its validity
or its exceUence : on the contrary, the worse it was found to be
ui its working (and this is an ordinary occurrence in matters o.
religion) the more extravagant were the encomiums lavished upon
it. I need hardly remind you that, in St. Bernard's sense, the
term chastity does not mean — that christian and rational purity of
the heart which the apostles recommend, and which they urge as
well upon the married, as the unmarried ; but that artificial and
external purity of the monastic system, to which the married could
make no pretensions.
' What so fair, as this chastity — which makes of a man, an
angel ? A chaste man, and an angel, differ indeed, as to felicity,
* De Conversione, c. 20.

82

THE CELIBATE 

but not as to virtue ; for although the purity of the angel be the
happier of the two, that of the man must be admitted to be the
more energetic. It is chastity, and that alone, which, in this
abode of mortaUty, holds forth the state of immortal glory. This
alone (on earth) where the rites of marriage are solemnized, vindi
cates the manners of that blessed region where they neither marry,
nor are given in marriage ; offering, as one may say, an example,
or experiment, on earth, of that heavenly mode of life  In
this earthly vessel of ours is contained the fragrant balsam (of
chastity) by virtue of which the mortal elements are conserved
incorrupt  This is the glory of the single life, to live the life
of an angel, whfle occupying the body, as of a beast.' *
This is the string, harped upon again and again, that, the
refigious ccelebs was ' an angel among beings of an inferior
order.' ' Who then should scruple to call the life of the religious
ccelebs a celestial, an angelic life ? or what will all the elect be
in the resurrection, which ye are not even now, as the angels of
God in heaven, who abstain from matrimonial connexions ? Ye
grasp, my beloved brethren, the pearl of great price, ye grasp
that sanctity which renders you like to the saints (in glory) and
the home servants of God, as saith the scripture — Incorruptness
places us next to God. Not by your own merits, are ye what ye
are ; but by the grace of God ; and as to chastity and sanctity, I
may call you — terrestrial angels, or rather citizens of heaven,
although stiU pflgrims upon earth ; for so long as we are in the
body, we are absent from the Lord.' f In all this, and pages to
the same effect might easily be adduced, you wifl not fail to
notice that constant characteristic of the fathers — the appro
priation of the choicest passages of scripture, in behalf of the
elite of the church ; thus depriving the mass of christians of
almost all their share in its promises and consolations. Too
much was ancient Christianity a monopoly of salvation, leaving,
to all but the few, nothing better than a remote probabUity of an
ultimate escape from perdition. Was this the gospel, preached
* De Officiis Episcoporum.
t St. Bernard's Sermons on the Canticles, the book Ad Sororem, and many
of his epistles (as 113) contain frequent repetitions of these sentiments.

EARLIER AND LATER. 83
by the apostles ? Yet, as we shall see, it was the natural conse
quence of the false principle we are now exposing ; and it is a
consequence inseparable from every similar error in regard to
christian institutions.
Whfle St, Bernard is before me, I must notice a particular,
which weU deserves a passing observation, in connexion with the
system of sentiments recommended in the Oxford Tracts. Our
author was a most ardent and loquacious admirer of the queen of
heaven. Very many entire pages of fiflsome and florid rhetoric
are devoted to her peculiar honour, and every epithet that the
most exorbitant superstition could coin, animated by sundry
erotic phrases, is coined, or adapted to the purpose of lifting this
• unique being,' the ' dispensatrix of the universe,' and ' dowager
of creation,' above the level of things finite. It is therefore only
what we might expect that St. Bernard is a great stickler for that
capital article of ancient orthodoxy — the ' perpetual virginity
of the Blessed Mary,' a denial of which actually horrified every
staunch churchman. But why, it may be asked, was there all
this anxiety on a point, apparently so remote from any practical
bearing ? Why ? — Because the Blessed Virgin — ' always virgin,'
as the Oxford writers are now telling us with a solemn and sig
nificant emphasis, was wanted, as the patroness of celibacy, and
the bright example of immaculate chastity. To have admitted
the plain sense of the inteUigible phrase employed by the inspired
evangelist, in reference to this inconsequential point, would have
been tantamount to a betrayal of the whole scheme of religious
celibacy. Only let it have been granted that the virtue of
the ' mother of God ' was nothing better than real virtue,
and that her piety was a principle of the heart, and that her
purity was the purity of the affections ; and only aUow that
she was a ' holy woman,' and an exemplary wife and mother,
such as the apostles speak of, and commend — only to have
done this, would have marred the entire scheme of theology and
morals, as fancied, and fashioned, by the ancient church. The
perpetual inviolateness of the blessed virgin was well felt to be
the key-stone of the building ; or, to change the figure, Mary's
unloosened zone was the tier of the ecclesiastical dome,, the rend
ing of which would have been, a universal crash. So firm are
G 2

84 THE CELIBATE 
those analogies which bind systems together, when, from age to
age, they reappear, that, by a perhaps unconscious and instinctive
tendency, the modern promulgators of ancient Christianity
are, with a significant sensitiveness, protruding this great orthodox
verity, of the perpetual virginity of the mother of God : — they are
just putting it forth, or shoving it forward in advance of their
steps, as an indispensable preparative for their after work, in
church reform. Do not imagine this point to be an insignificant
one : it will be found to touch the intimate springs of the system ;
and I venture to predict that, unless these good men take the
alarm in time, and hold back a little, until they feel their success
to be better assured, we shall hear something more than we have
yet heard, about the ' always virgin.' Listen for one moment,
to the zealous advocate of Mary's honours ; and there is the more
reason for doing so, because, as we shall find, he only echoes
the voice of antiquity, keeping to the quod semper, quod ubique,
quod ab omnibus, concerning so fundamental a principle of
religion !
¦ ' She alone,' says St. Bernard, ' of all born of women, was
born without sin, and preserved sinless throughout her life. Well
indeed did become the oueen of virgins, this singular privflege
of sanctity, to pass a fife absolutely exempt from sin ! ' Thus,
and with equal zeal and confidence, at least as to the ' perpetual
virginity,' speak the devout Ambrose, the truly great Athanasius,
and fifty others — aU conscious, that this article of their faith was
of vital consequence to their system.
' How are my eyes dazzled by the splendour of the diadem of
OUR aUEEN, which flluminates the universe . . . what then are
the stars in this refulgent diadem — the chief honours of virginity,
and these prerogatives — to have conceived without corruption —
to have been gravid without burden — to have given birth without
pain !....'

In fact, this idol of the fathers, was to be constituted a god
dess, in all points, and she became, at length, the real and princi
pal object of the religious sentiments of the (so called) christian
world. But who, let it be asked, were the authors of this
spiritual debauchery ? Who was it that had set these blasphe
mies a-going ? — not the popes, not the later roman doctors ; none

HARLIER AND LATER. 85
other than the nicene teachers, who, having assumed a false
principle in religion, were thenceforward carried, by a latent and
irresistible tendency, to adopt every absurd and impious notion
that might favour it. I might, to some good purpose, detain you
yet with St. Bernard, on whose pages, and entirely apart from his
romanism, we find expanded, the gay petals of those buds which
already show their colours in the writings of earlier fathers. I
have gathered a sample only, and such as may serve to arrest
attention, when brought into comparison with corresponding
passages of a thousand years' earlier date.*
' But now, let me ask,' says St. Bernard, addressing the clergy,
' how do the bishops and priests of this our age study to preserve
that sanctity of continence, in heart and person, without which no
man shall see the Lord ? Truly hath the Lord, in the gospel,
said to bishops, and without doubt it was so in the primitive
church, let your loins be girt, thereby not merely approving but
commanding chastity (celibacy) — the Holy Spirit this signifying,
that no one should come near the table of the Lord, or approach
that angels' food, unless purified in mind and body ; (that is, by
the observance of a strict celibacy.) But how do we regard this
injunction ? — I think it better, on this head, to dissimulate a
little, rather than, by speaking out, to say what might scandalize
the innocent and uninformed. And yet why should I scruple to
speak of that, which they (the bishops and clergy) do not blush
* I am blamed for having applied the phrase, ' Cybele of the Fathers,' to
the Virgin Mary. I have expunged it, that I may not seem regardless
of the feelings of any ; but I am inclined to think that, if right-minded men
were fully informed of the extent, and the horrid extravagance to which the
worship of ' the mother of God' has been carried, they would not dispute the
appropriateness of the expression. Through a long course of time what
was called Christianity, was, in fact, the worship of a troop of male and
female divinities, with Mary at their head, as the Queen of heaven and earth.
Mary was the ' Star of Heaven,' to be regarded and invoked ' in all times
of trouble and temptation.' In periculis, in angustiis, in rebus dubiis,
Mariam cogita, Mariam invoca. Non recedat ab ore, non recedat a corde,
&c. St. Bernard. Hom. III. Super Missus est. • The passages adduced
above, and others to the same effect, may be found in these homilies and
— ad canonicos Lugdun. Epist. 174. Serm. in Assumptione B. V. M. In
Festo Pentecost. Serm. III. If it should seem necessary still further 16
lay open the mysteries of the ' great mystery,' St. Bernard shall be quoted
more copiously.

86 THE CELIBATE 
to perpetrate ? Brethren, I am become a fool ; but ye have com
peUed me.'*
A passage presents itself, in this connexion, which, whfle it
affords a characteristic example of the perverted style of applying
scripture, is curious, as a conceit played with by writer after
writer, from Tertullian to St. Bernard, and as we have seen,
among others by Cyprian.
' I beseech you, my beloved sister, hear with aU reverence the
word of exhortation. . . . The thirty-fold is the first degree, and it
signifies the alliances of the married ; the sixty-fold is the second
step, and signifies the continence of widows ; the hundred-fold is
the third step, in this gradation of ranks ; and it intends the
crown of chastity, destined for virgins. . . . Conjugal virtue is
good, the virtue of widows is better ; but best is the integrity of
absolute virginity. Nevertheless, better is a humble widow, than
a haughty virgin : better a widow mourning her sins, than a virgin
boasting of her virginity. . . Nor ought such to contemn, or to
glory over, married women, living virtuously. When therefore
honest wives frequent the monastery, despise them not ; they are
the handmaidens of the Lord ; love them as mothers. And thou,
say not that thou art a dry tree, for if thou lovest thy Spouse,
Christ, thou hast seven sons ; thy first-born, is Modesty, thy
second. Patience, thy third, Sobriety, thy fourth, Temperance, thy
fifth. Charity, thy sixth, Humflity, thy seventh. Chastity. ¦ Thus
hast thou, my venerable sister, by the Holy Ghost, borne unto
Christ, and without pain, seven sons ; that the scripture might be
fulfilled — the barren hath borne seven. '-^ Once more, and re
questing you to turn to a passage already quoted from Cyprian,
take the following, which may suffice to show that the sentiment
and style of speaking characteristic of ripened romanism, was
nothing but an echo of the sentiments and language of the earliest
times ; as will further appear from other evidence I have to
produce. ' We come now to contemplate the lily blossom : and see, O
* The vices of the clergy, St. Bernard, with honest indignation assails : thus
In Cantioa, Serm. 33, and in various passages of the boot De Convertione, to
which I make this general reference.
¦|- Ad Sororem, u. 22.

EARLIER AND LATER. 87
thou, the virgin of Christ ! see how much fairer is this thy flower,
than any other I look at the special grace which, beyond any other
flower of the earth, it hath obtained ! Nay, listen to the com
mendation bestowed upon it by the Spouse himself, when he saith
— Consider the Iflies of the field (the virgins) how they grow, and
yet I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory, was not arrayed
like one of these ! Read therefore, O virgin, and read again,
and often read again, and again, this word of thy Spouse, and
understand how, in the commendation of this fiower, he com
mends thy glory ! He, the all-wise Creator, and Architect of all
things, veils all the glory of this world, just with thy blossom : nor
only is the glory equalled by the flower ; but he sets the flower
above aU glory. In the glory of Solomon you are to understand
that, whatever is rich and great on earth, and the choicest of all,
is prefigured ; and in the bloom of thy lily, which is thy likeness,
and that of all the virgins of Christ, the glory of virginity is
intended. . . . See how, in this song of loves, the Spouse insists
upon his fondness for thee — tho fily — saying, as the lily among
the thorns, so is my beloved among the daughters ; and again,
my beloved goes up to his spicy flower beds, and gathers lilies.
Admirable fily ! the love of the Spouse I lovely lily ! which is
gathered by the Spouse ! Not truly as I ween, is it gathered
that it should wither ; but that it should be laid upon the golden
altar, which is before the eyes of the Lord. . . . Virginity hath
indeed a two-fold prerogative, a virtue which, in others, is single
only ; for whfle all the church is virgin in soul, having neither
spot, nor wrinkle ; being incorrupt in faith, hope, and charity, on
which account it is called a virgin, and merits the praises of the
Spouse, what praise, think you, are our lilies worthy of, who
possess this purity in body, as well as in soul, which the church
at large has in soul only ! In truth, the virgins of Christ are, as
we may say, the fat and marrow of the church, and by right of an
excellence altogether pecufiar to themselves, they enjoy his most
familiar embraces.'*
A passage already cited from Cyprian, and a passage too, not
cited (occurring in his treatise De Habitu Virginum) though not
so highly ornamented, is substantially equivalent to this of
• De Passione Domini, c.28.

88 THE CELIBATE 
St. Bernard ; and it goes the whole length of those utterly
improper accommodations, which, when addressed to sickly and
sensitive feminine imaginations, must have had a most pernicious
and degrading tendency.
A conceit such as this, was not to be hastily thrown aside, and
we find the preacher, with the bevy of fair ladies before him,
carrying on his pleasant discourse much further than we have,
at present, either leisure or inclination to follow him. We shall
soon see in what style the crabbed Tertullian handles similar
topics ;, not nearly indeed so much in the mode of a rosy-lipped,
and scented petit maitre, but yet so as to include aU the sub
stance ofthe same -system of perverted theology, and of miserably
corrupt morality.
But before adducing my next set of evidences, I request you
again to notice the instances contained in the above quotations,
of what I have called the usurping of scripture, and which is the
general characteristic of the early christian divines — that is, the
taking texts in special senses, not simply in the way of misappli
cation (a fault that has been too common in all ages) but restrict
ing a passage which manifestly bears a broad meaning, to some
technical purpose ; thus robbing the church at large of its portion ;
as in-an instance above cited, where, whatever is said concerning
instruction and correction, is made to mean— the discipline of
the monastery ; or when, as we find in St. Bernard, purity and
sanctity are made to mean — virginity, and an artificial abjuration
of the social relationships. Now you may be charitably willing
to believe that this was nothing worse than an incidental error of
practice, in the interpretation of scripture. For my own part,
meeting with it, as I do, every where, or nearly so, in the remains
of christian antiquity ; and especially in connexion with the super
stitions of the times, I regard it as the inevitable concomitant
of the adoption of a grand false principle in religion, the support
of which demanded, at every turn, some such introversion of the
plain meaning of the inspired writers.
I am now to bring forward the most vigorous, as well as one
of the earliest of the christian writers, and the contemporary of
men who had conversed with the immediate successors of the
apostles.

EARLIER AND LATER. 89
TertuUian, in the first of his epistles to his wffe, dissuading her
from contracting a second marriage, in the event of his death,
says — ' against all (specious reasons of a contrary tendency, and
which he had enumerated) employ the example of our sisters,
whose names are with the Lord (penes Dominum, enrolled as
virgins in the church books) and who place sanctity (virginity)
above aU considerations of beauty or of youth, which might
induce them to marry : they had rather be married to the Lord ;
in his eyes fair, on him they wait as his handmaids, with him they
live ; with him they converse ; him, night and day they handle
(tractanl) ; their prayers, as their dowry, they render to him, and
from him, as allowance, they receive, from time to time, whatsoever
they desire. Thus have they now anticipated that eternal good
which is the gift of the Lord, and thus, while on earth, in not mar
rying, they are reckoned as belonging to the angelic household.
By using the example of women, such as these, you will incite, in
yourself, an emulation of their continence, and by the spiritual taste
break down carnal affections, freeing your soul from the stains of
the transitory desires belonging to youth and beauty, by the thought
of the recompense of immortal benefits.' *
You will observe in this passage first, a clear reference to the
established custom, at this early time, of consecrating virginity to
the Lord ; and then, that identity of principle, and analogy of
sentiment, and even correspondence in terms, which all serve to
support my proposition, That this principal element of ancient
Christianity was as fully developed, or nearly so, in the second
and third century, as in the thirteenth. In what follows you
wfll readily distinguish the extravagance of TertuUian's personal
opinions, from those generally admitted notions, on the ground of
which he argues in addressing others. It is with the latter, not
the former, that we are at present concerned. In the passage to
be cited, our author gives the clue (which may indeed elsewhere
be found clearly enough, and of which, hereafter, I must make
some use) to the institution of celibacy, as a permanent order in
the church. Satan, says he, had his devoted vridows, and his
virgin priestesses, and should not Christ have the like ? The
well-known heathen practices, in this respect, were looked upon
" Ad Uxorem, lib. I.

90 THE CELIBATE 
with a sort of jealousy, by the ill-judging leaders of the church,
who deemed it a point of honour, not to be outdone in any
extravagant act or practice of devotion, by the gentiles, over
whom they might have been content to claim the genuine supe
riority of real virtue. The same fatal ambition, as we shaU see
hereafter, operated as a principal means of perverting the system
of worship, and of spoifing, in aU its parts, the simplicity of the
gospel. ' Among the heathen,' says Tertullian, ' a strictness of discipline,
in this respect, is observed which ours do not submit to. But these
restraints the devil imposes on his servants, and he is obeyed ; and
hereby stimulates the servants of God to reach an equal virtue.
The priests of gehenna retain their continence ; for the devfl
knows how to destroy men, even in the practice of the virtues ;
and he cdres not, so that he does but slay them, whether it be by
the indulgence ofthe flesh, or by mortifying it.' *
Well would it have been for the church, had this double deal
ing of the adversary been thoroughly understood, and so those
devices resisted, which were as fatal to the serious and fervent,
as the common baits of sensuality are to the mass of mankind !
A false principle once assumed, under strong excitements, has the
power to infatuate even the strongest and the best informed minds,
and to lead them to any extent of extravagance. Thus we find
our author, having firmly attached himself to the then prevalent
befief that there could be no virtue or purity, worth the name,
apart from celibacy, or, in other words, that even the lawful
matrimonial connexion was, in some degree, of the nature of vice,
or was, as some of them did not scruple to term it — stuprum
conjugale, goes about, with a perverse ingenuity, to prove that
God had, under the new dispensation of grace, actuaUy rescinded
the constitutions of nature. This instance of audacious expo
sition is really remarkable.
. . . . ' The command — Increase and multiply, is abolished.
Yet as, I think (contrary to the gnostic opinion) this command,
in the first instance, and now the removal of it are, from one and
* Ad Uxorem, lib. I., II. de Virginibus Velandis, de Monogamia, and de
Tudicitia. The treatises here referred to are not of great length, and a perusal
of them entire, is desirable.

EARLIER AND LATER. 91
the same God ; who then, and in that early seed time of the
human race, gave the reins to the marrying principle, untfl the
world should be replenished, and untfl he had prepared the
elements of a new scheme of discipline. But now, in this con
clusion of the ages, he restrains what once he had let loose, and
revokes what he had permitted. The same reason governs the
contmuance, at first, of that which is to prepare for the future.
In a thousand instances indulgence is granted to the beginnings
of things. So it is that a man plants a wood, and aUows it to
grow, intending in due time to use the axe. The wood then, is
the old dispensation, which is done away by the gospel, in which
the axe is laid to the root of the tree.' *
Had TertuUian never read our Lord's solemn re-announcement
of the old law — 'wherefore a man shafl leave,' &c, or Paul's
assertion of the apostolic liberty, to ' lead about a wife,' or his
injunction that the ministers of religion should be husbands ?
But aU this took no hold of his mind, inasmuch as he, and many
in his time, had substituted, for the genuine idea of virtue and
purity, an artificial and unnatural institute, having its gradations
of exceUence, the topmost glory being claimed for the Lord's
spotless virgins I Thus was the form of godUness zealously cared
for, whfle the substance of it was too much forgotten.
' May it not suffice thee to have fallen from that high rank of
immaculate virginity, by once marrying, and so descending to a
second stage of honour ? Must thou yet fall further, even to a
third, to a fourth, and perhaps yet lower ?'.... -j-
It was fhe inevitable consequence (a consequence which in fact
instantly followed) of the notion that celibacy was a high merit,
and matrimony a deffiement, and a discredit, that this pecufiar
advantage should attach to the ministers of religion : so natural
an inference is expressly pointed out, by some of the early writers ;
and thus it came about that the Lord's appointment, declared by
his apostle, was nullified by the impious inventions of men.
Very early the married clergy were regarded as a degraded class,
insulted by their arrogant, and often profligate, or at least
* TertuUian elsewhere holds less absurd doctrine, as in the treatise de
Anima, and Contra Marcion. The passage cited occurs de Exhort. Castitatis.
t De Monogamia.

92 the CELIBATE 
fanatical, coUeagues, and held in low esteem by the people. Of
what avafl is it then to inquire at what date, precisely, the celibacy
of the clergy was authoritatively enjoined, as if we wished to
make good an impeachment of the papal power ? This rule, and
the enforcement of it, ought rather to be regarded as an act of
mercy, than as an instance of tyranny — so long as the ancient
principle of the merit of celibacy w^as to be maintained. For, in
fact, submission to a universaUy imposed law, is far eapier than a
compliance with a variable custom, or prejudice, which might be
broken through. Under painful conditions of any kind, the
mind much sooner asquissces in a stern, irrevocable rule, than in
a partial, and often relaxed usage. Besides, the enforcement of
celibacy, removed, at once, the invidious distinction that had
obtained between the married and the unmarried clergy ; and it
set the seculars, at least, all on one level. It was an act of mercy,
therefore, quite as much as of severity; and, for ourselves, we
must not be so inequitable as to throw the blame upon popery.
Who was it, but the doctors of the nicene church, that have made
themselves answerable for the corruptions, and the miseries, the
tears, the agonies of remorse, the perversions of nature, the
debaucheries, the cruelties, that have directly resulted from the
celibacy of the clergy, through a long course of ages (not to
include now the monkish institutions) who but the sincere and
devout, many of them, but deplorably mistaken, men that are
now quoted as our masters in christian ethics and theology ?
But I have hot quite done with Tertullian. The legal educa
tion and dialectic habits of this writer, as weU as his natural
sagacity, made him perceive more clearly, and perhaps sooner,
than others, that practices such as those involved in the disci
pline and order of celibacy, could not be maintained, or enforced,
even after perverse ingenuity had done its utmost, in the way of
exaggeration, without the aid of some general principle, such as
should bear any weight that might be thrown upon it, and which
the scriptures alone could not be made to sustain. We therefore
find him very deliberately going to work to lay this necessary
foundation, whereon might be reared, and whereon, in fact, has
been reared, a vast and ever growing superstructure of super
stition, human devices, and tyrannous canons.

tARLIER AND LATER. 93
In commencing the present argument with the subject of the
ancient doctrine concerning virginity, I have felt that it would
open to us a direct path, to the principle which is really at issue
between the favourers of antiquity, and their opponents, and I
think it will appear that I have not taken up the wrong clue.
In the treatise concerning the veiling of nuns (do not startle at
the term as employed by a writer of the pristine age, for at this
time the word virgo, had, among church writers, already acquired
its technical sense, and in fact conveyed all the meaning after
wards attached to the more peculiar epithet nonna) in this
elaborate treatise, in which all the subtilties of a special pleader
are exhausted upon a theme utterly frivolous, Tertullian, at the
outset, having laid down the immoveable principles of faith, as
summarily expressed in the Apostles' Creed, affirms that what
affects discipline and christian behaviour, must admit of perpetual
correction (or alteration) even to the end of time ; as it were to
adapt the christian scheme to the incessant opposite agency of the
devil. ' Wherefore it is that the Lord hath sent the Comforter,'*
that, as the feebleness of human nature could not at once receive
the whole truth, it might by degrees be directed and regulated,
and led on, until the system of discipline had reached perfection,
under the vicarious influence of the Holy Spirit of the Lord (ab
illo vicario Domini Spiritu sanoto). ' I have many things yet to
say unto you,' saith he, ' but ye cannot sustain them at present :
but when he, the Spirit of truth is come, he will lead you into all
truth, and wifl declare to you things that are to be superadded,'
(supervenientia, instead of, quse ventura sunt) — concerning which
office (of the Spirit) he had above spoken. ' What then is this
administration of the Comforter, unless it consist in such things
as these — that matters of discipline be ordered, that the (sense
of the) scriptures be opened, that the mind (of the church) be
restored, and that it should be advanced toward what is better ?
There is nothing that does not advance by age. All things wait
upon time ; as the preacher saith, there is a time for every thing.
Look at the natural world, and see the plant gradually ripening
to its fruit, first a mere grain ; from the grain arises the green
• Tertullian here speaks as a Montanist ; but his principle is the foun
dation of romanism, and of its cognates.

94 THE CELIBATE 
stalk, and from the staUi shoots up the shrub ; then the boughs
and branches get strength, and the tree is complete : thence the
sweUing bud, and from the bud, the blossom, and from the flower
the fruit ; which, at the first crude and shapeless, by fittle and
little proceeds, and attains its ripe softness and flavour. And so
in religion (justitia) for it is the same God of nature, and of re
ligion : at first in its rudiments only, nature surmising something
concerning God ; then by the law and the prophets advanced to
its infant state ; then by the gospel it reached the heats of youth ;
and now, by the Comforter, is moulded to its maturity.'
In the tract, De Corona,* in a passage which has of late been
several times quoted, Tertulfian expounds the same principle ;
but further on, in the same, after going through with his argu
ment on the grounds of nature, scripture, and custom, or the
established discipline of the apostofic churches, our author pro
ceeds, ' Scripture is of God, nature is of God, discipline (usage)
is of God ; and whatever contradicts these is not of God. If in
any case scripture be ambiguous, nature is indubitable, and,
sustained by its testimony, scripture cannot be uncertain ; or if
there were yet any doubt concerning the evidence of nature, the
discipline (usage of the churches) which is more directly authen
ticated by God, shows the way.'
We have seen, then, not merely the fact attested, of the early
institution of religious celibacy, as a standing and prominent part
of the ecclesiastical system ; but have heard the characteristic
sentiments, and the artificial notions which were the strength of
this institution, advanced as explicitly by early, as by later
writers ; and now we find the broad principle formally asserted>
which might not merely underprop the discipline of celibacy, but
sustain all other additions to the Christianity of the scriptures,
and in fact give sofidity to whatever constitutes the mass of abo
minations summarfly caUed — popery.
Is then Tertuflian's doctrine — his fundamental church axiom,
a good one ? Is it true, or not, that Christianity, as revealed and
verbally expressed in the canonical writings, is a mere sketch, or
rough draft, of that mature truth which, by little and little, was
to be granted to the church, through the medium of its doctors,
* And a similar passage in the De Virginibus Velandis.

EARLIER AND LATER. 95
and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit ? If so, then is there
any where else we can look for the progressive expansion of this
ever-growing truth, but to the church of Rome ; or, if we like it
better, the Greek church ? Where is the tree to be found, laden
with its fruit, but where the plant was set ? At this rate, pro
testantism, under whatever pretext, is nothing better than a
blasphemy, and a high sin against the Holy Ghost ; and what
have its mart3rrs been, but the justly punished enemies of God
and the church ?
If TertuUian's principle of a gradual development of truth be
sound, then every separate item of the romish superstitions and
encroachments, was in fact a new favour, granted to the church
from above ; or if not, and if there are exceptions, who is it that
shall come in, and name these exceptions, or enable us to distin
guish between the genuine, and the spurious developments of the
great scheme ? At this rate, the enormities of the monastic insti
tution, and the compulsory celibacy of the clergy, as well as the
superstition of refics, the invocation of saints, the communion in
one kind, the service in latin, the universal vicarship of the bishop
of Rome, the secular power wielded by the church, and — the
denial of the scriptures to the laity, are aU so many boons,
graciously sent down from on high, as parts and parcels of that
adult symmetry which is at length to be the glory of the mature
church. But who shafl say why, if this principle be assumed,
we should make a stand at tridentine romanism ? Has the Spirit
withdrawn from the church ; has the promise of the Lord been
revoked ; are the favours of heaven exhausted ; are there yet no
truths in reserve ; is the treasury of divine elements so soon
emptied ? — on the contrary, ought we not to be looking every
day for some further apocalypse, some new and heaven-born
doctrine, or practice : nay, it is only pious to believe, that the
progressive manifestation shaU go on, untfl the vast discrepancy
between the ripened Christianity of a remote age, and its rude
commencement, as consigned to the canonical writings, shall have
dismissed these as obsolete and void ! It is thus, in fact, that
the church, after she had made so much progress in advance of
her first position, as to render the contrast between herself and
scriptural Christianity a matter of scandal to the simple, wisely

96 THE CELIBATE 
(and indeed of necessity) interdicted the perusal of the bible ;
nor can she be accused, in this instance, and if her principle be
good, of having deprived the people of any real benefit ; for why
should we wish to revert from a more perfect, to a, less perfect
exhibition of the divine mind ? To look to the scriptures, instead
of looking to the church of our own times, is as if those under
the theocratic dispensation, had, in contempt of their prerogatives,
relapsed to natural religion ; or as if the first christians had sought
to reinstate Judaism.
It must not be said that, in all this, I either exaggerate the
consequences of the doctrine in question, or bestow upon it more
regard than it deserves. Nothing can be more clear than is the
inference, as it flows from the premises, nor do I know that the
essence of the argument with which at the present moment we
are concerned, can be much less exceptionably stated than it is
by Tertullian, in the passage quoted. Was Christianity complete
and mature in the hands of the apostles ; or was it then in the
bud merely, waiting to be expanded and ripened by the suns and
showers of many centuries ? If we assume the former position,
and deny altogether TertuUian's doctrine, then we must not only
reject popery, and its usurpations, but the errors also of an earlier
time.* I do not forget that, in reference to the above-cited principle,
it would be easy to refute TertuUian — out of Tertullian (a mode
of treatment to which every intemperate and wayward writer is
open) for when he undertakes to deal with heretics, and feels that
he must have ground to stand upon that will afford him support
in overturning their foolish novelties, he ' prescribes' them with
stringent references to the unchanging authority of scripture, as
sustained by the continuous and concurrent testimony of the
apostolic churches. But then, mark the predicament in which
we stand. — If we are compelled to make a choice between the
two TertuUians, considered as the champions of the notions and
practices of the church at that time, it must be the montanist
Tertullian — the writer of the passage above cited, not the more
' Although the modern adherents of tradition, declare that they mean only
' apostolic tradition ;' they actually send us to the writers of the fourth century
to find this additional rule of faith.

EARLIER AND LATER. 97
sound divine whom we find trampling upon the crew of heretics,
that will serve our purpose. The protestant Tertullian may in
deed be the most to our tastff-of the two ; but then he condemns,
by a clear implication, aU the most favourite practices of that
early age. It is therefore the other Tertullian of whose rhetoric
we must avail ourselves, for the defence of those articles of
ancient Christianity which some are now fondly admiring, and
would fain restore.
It is thus too with Vincent of Lerins, so often quoted of late.
None better than he, bars the church door against heretics, or the
broachers of new doctrines ; but then unfortunately, as in some
cases, the bar of a door is found to be the most potent instrument
one can lay hands upon, to employ as a crow, or lever, for
breaking it open, so are the densely compacted paragraphs of the
cogent Vincent, convertible, in the readiest manner, to the pur
pose of demolishing, not merely romanism, but the superstitious
Christianity of the eastern, and of the western churches, such as
it was in the writer's times. Give us but that exceUent tract,
the Commonitorium, and we might defy, single handed, all the
Bellarmines of the papacy, and all the fathers ; and, with due
modesty be it spoken, the entire band of the Oxford Tract
writers. The often-repeated opinions to which my first proposition
stg.nds opposed, would, if correct, justify the expectation that, in
taking so long a period as four or five hundred years, anywhere
out of the sixteen hundred, preceding the reformation, one should
be able, without any ambiguity, to trace the progress of religious
corruption, and that it would be easy to say — such and such false
notions, or extravagant sentiments, are characteristic of the later
time, from which errors the earlier age is altogether exempt : but
in reference to the subject now before us (and not to this alone)
such an expectation is but partially borne out by the evidence.
I must profess to be entirely unable to draw any line of very
obvious distinction, marking the advances of error, or corruption,
in this particular, during the lapse of fourteen centuries. Some
writers, it is true, such as Gregory Nyssen, or Palladius, are
much more extravagant than some others, on this point ; but
then the difference attaches to the individual, and has little

"3 THE CELlB.iTE 
or no reference to the place he occupies, chronologically, in the
series. To render our notions, in this instance, as definite as possible,
I would look at the subject in different fights, and in doing so,
I find only one respect in which the influence of time is clearly
to be traced, in rendering the doctrine and practice of religious
celibacy of a later age, unlike what they had been at an earfier
time ; and this, which I have already alluded to, relates to those
ecclesiastical enactments, and points of discipfine, which, from
time to time, were found to be indispensable, as corrective of the
abuses whereto the system was obnoxious. These changes, or
amendments, it would serve no purpose as related to our present
argument, to specify. Let it be reme'mbered however, that
although they may have impfied some stretches of tyranny, they
are not, generally, of the nature of progressive corruptions.
In every other respect, time made nothing essentially worse
than it had been almost from the first. To come to instances : —
if we are thinking of those abject and frivolous observances that
have attached to the monastic modes of life, and to the devotional
routine of the monastery, I would request any who may be
inclined to demur at my representations, to compare whatever
descriptions he may choose to select of the mummeries of the
monasticism of the twelfth century, with the institutes of Cassian,
which contain the principles and the minute details of the mo
nastic institution, as it had already been digested, and then long
practised, in the east, and the west, so early as the fourth century.
There may be variations, distinguishing the two schemes of life ;
but will a reasonable man affirm that there is anything to prefer, in
thp more ancient model ? There is no degradation of the intellect,
no bondage of the moral sentiments, no substitution of forms for
realities ; there is no drivelling belonging to the monkery of the
middle ages, that may not be matched, to the full, in the monkery
of the bright times of Chrysostom, Ambrose, and Augustine. I
here put the question to any opponent — ' What is it that you
precisely mean by the corruptions of popery,' in respect to the
monastic system ? or in other words, ' Can you make it appear,
to the .satisfaction of thinking men, that this same system had
become more frivolous, and therefore, in a religious sense, more

EARLIER AND LATEll. 99
pernicious, in the twelfth century, than it was at the opening of
the fourth ? ' I am tempted here to cite the very words of
Cassian, who, in stickling, with great seriousness, for some inanity
of the monkish daily ritual, says, . . . qui modus antiquitus consti-
tutus, idcirco per tot sascula penes cuncta monasteria intemeratus
nunc usque perdurat ; quia non humana adinventione statutus a
senioribus affirmatur, sed coelitus angeli magisterio patribus fuisse
delatus. These observances then could have been no novelties.*
But again ; if we think of those enormous follies and impious
whims, which, connected as they always were with the monastic
life, imposed a mask, sometimes of idiotcy and sometimes of mad
ness, upon the bright face of Christianity, I ask whether this sort
of corruption was more extreme in a later age, than it had been
in an earfier ; or, if any think so, I would send them no further
than to the Lausaic history of the pious and really respectable
Palladius, a bishop, a man of some learning, and the intimate
friend of the fllustrious Chrysostom, and the companion of his
exfle. I am not about to cite any samples of the utter nonsense
and the spiritual ribaldry of this book. Let those refer to it, and
satisfy themselves, who are still clinging to the fond idea of a
golden age of Christianity. The legends collected by Palladius,
relate, for the most part, to an earlier age than his own ; and
romances of like quality are to be found in Eusebius, Ephrem,
Jerome, Sozomen, and Theodoret, and as belonging to the times
of the heathen persecutions. No one, I am sure, who really
knows what he is talking about, wiU dare, with such documents
before him, to play the quixote, and break a lance in defence of
the honour of the ancient monkery.
, Or, if we were to make inquiry concerning the half-confessed,
and yet sufficiently attested more serious erils and horrors that
have disgraced the institute of religious celibacy, I think that
those who have been used to look into the fathers will admit
there to be reason enough for believing that the natural conse
quences of this institute, when it came to include promiscuous
masses of the religious body, developed themselves fully, froni
almost the first. On this point, I wfll not put the clue into any
one's hand : but leave the broad assertion to be contradicted by
* Cassian. Inst. lib. ii. \i. i;
H 2

100

THE CELIBATE 

those who may think it discreet to dare me to the proof. One
hint only I will drop, and must do so in anticipation of what it
would give me no surprise (whatever disgust) to witness ; — I
mean a modest, sentimental, plausible endeavour, to feel the
religious pulse, in reference to the ' celestial and apostolic ' prac
tice of ' vowing virginity to the Lord.' In any such case there
would be no more room for compromise, but evidence must be
instantly spread out before all eyes, showing what have, in every
age, and from the first, been the deplorable consequences of this
pernicious custom. Some may smile at the mere supposition
that any such endeavour should be made — out of the pale of the
romish communion. For my own part (unless I may have had
the honour of suggesting a little caution to certain parties) it is
nothing but what I think we are to look for, as the next move in
the game.
There yet remains, however, one other point of view, whence
the same subject may be regarded, and that is the bearing of the
institute of celibacy upon the religious principle, which was ap
pealed to for giving it support : now, without anticipating what
wfll more properly find a place, a little way on, I will state the
fact that, at a very early time, a false maxim of spiritual compu
tation had become so inveterate, as that the most sedate and
judicious divines, without hesitation, employed it, in the esti
mates they formed of the comparative excellence of different
refigious conditions. That is to say, a rule of spiritual eminence
is appealed to, which overlooks all reference to what is truly
spiritual, or, in any genuine sense, moral ; and puts in its room
what is formal, visible, or ecclesiastical. I will refer, in this
instance, to the sober-minded Isidore of Pelusium, also, a bishop,
and the personal friend of Chrysostom, and whose expositions of
scripture are frequently such as to deserve respectful attention.
We have seen in what way TertuUian, Cyprian, and, with not
more absurdity, St. Bernard, pervert the plain sense of scripture,
for the purpose of hitching the virgins of Christ upon the loftiest
pinnacle of the ecclesiastical structure. Now for Isidore, who, to
do him justice, inserts a frequent airaye, when there appears to
be a danger lest, in his recommendation of celibacy, matrimony
should be despoiled of its due honours.

EARLIER AND LATER. 101
' The warfare of virginity is indeed great, glorious, and divine ,
yet does it (when successfuUy waged) diminish the arduousness
of our conflict with other of our spiritual adversaries .... as high
as the heaven is above the earth, and as far as the soul excels
the body, so does the state of virginity surpass the state of matri
mony  Wherefore let the contemners of virginity cease their
prating, and henceforward acknowledge, dutifully, its princess
like dignity, and submit themselves to its behests ; placing
themselves under its protection, and avafling themselves of its
mediatorial (or intercessory) office. And, if I may employ celes
tial emblems, I must compare those who embrace the virgin
state, to the sun ; whfle those who only observe continence, are
to be fikened to the moon; and those living in honourable
wedlock, to the stars ; and so, as the divine Paul reckons
up the degrees of dignity, and says — there is one glory of the
sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the
stars ! ' *
Now it is no matter to us, whether Isidore be rig'nt or wrong
in the relative position which he assigns to the three estates ; but
it is of real importance, to our present argument, to observe the
fact that, so utterly faUacious and fatally erroneous a principle
of religious feeling had, at this time, come to be universally re
ceived, and admitted, by even the most judicious divines ; and
that, in accordance with this principle, the piety and purity of the
heart had come to be subordinated to the visible and ecclesiastical
condition, and that continence was regarded as mere moonshine,
when placed in the same heavens with the solar effulgence of the
virginity of the nun. Meantime whatever might be the personal
godliness, or the purity, or the sofid virtues of the christian ma
tron, all were, at the best, but as the faint twinkling of a star !
Now, as it seems to me, all this is not mere rodomontade, which
one may smfle at, and let pass ; but it is substantiafly false doc
trine, and of most putrid quaUty, in regard to piety and morals :
it is the indication of an ulcer — a bad condition of the vitals of
the christian system, and a condition which had then become
inveterate. Isidore's theology is not popery ; nor was it his own
* Isid. Epist. lib. iii. epist. 351.

102

ANTIQUITY OF THE OPINIONS

scheme of doctrine ; but the inheritance which he had come into :
it was the boasted apostolic catholicity, which all his contempo
raries had assented to, and which was scrupulously watched over,
and handed down, to the next age. If Gregory I. may fairly be
regarded as the father of popery, using the term in its proper
sense, I am sure he does not, on the point now before us, advance
any thing which may not find its parallel on the pages of the best
writers of the fourth century : but the proof of this assertion
cannot be necessary to my immediate argument.
I shall then on the whole assume, as not to be denied, the
general affirmation embodied in my first proposition, That the
lapse of many centuries exhibits no essential change, or progres
sion, in reference to the principles, the practices, or the abuses
of religious celibacy.

ANTIQUITY OF THE OPINIONS CONCERNING
RELIGIOUS CELIBACY.
I HAVE undertaken to adduce proof of the assertion, not only
that the doctrine of the merit of cefibacy, and the consequent
practices, are found in a mature state at an early age ; but
also —
That, at the earfiest period at which we find this doctrine, and
these practices, distinctly mentioned, they are referred to in such
a manner as to make it certain that they were, at that time, no
novelties, or recent innovations.
Now I am aware that a statement such as this, if it shafl
appear to be borne out by evidence, wiU excite alarm in some
minds. The dissipation of erroneous impressions is always a
somewhat perflous operation ; • nevertheless dangers much more
to be feared, are incurred by a refusal to admit the fuU ajid
Simple truth. Yet the alarm that may be felt in this instance,
at the first, may soon be removed ; for although it were to appear

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. 103
that certain errors of feeling and practice had seized the church,
universal, at the very moment when the personal infiuence of the
apostles was withdrawn, yet such an admission wiU shake no
principle really important to our faith or comfort. In fact, too
many have been attaching their faith and comfort to a suppo
sition, concerning pristine Christianity, which is totally illusory,
and such as can bear no examination — a supposition which must
long ago have been dispelled from all well-informed minds, by
the influence of rational modes of dealing with historical materials,
if it had not been for the conservative accident, that the materials
which belong to this particular department of history, have lain
embedded in repulsive folios of latin and greek, to which very
few, and those not always the most independent, or energetic,
in their habits of mind, have had access. Certain unfounded
generalities, very delightful had they possessed the recommenda
tion of truth, have been a thousand times repeated, and seldom
scrutinized. But the times of this ignorance are now passing away ; and I
think the zeal of the Oxford Tract writers wifl have the effect,
as an indirect means, of disabusing effectively, and for ever, the
refigious mind, in this country, and perhaps throughout Europe,
of the inveterate fllusions that have so long hung over the fields
of christian antiquity. It wfll be impossible, much longer, to
make those things believed which we have been taught to con
sider as unquestionable ; and the result must be, (how desirable
a result) the compefling the christian church, henceforward, to
rest its faith and practice on the only solid foundation.
The actual impression, moral and spiritual, made upon the
jevrish and pagan world by the preaching of the apostles them
selves, -and of their personal colleagues, has, I fear, been over
rated by the generality of christians ; and yet, if it be so, and
if we are called upon to surrender a portion of our too hastily
assumed belief, on this subject, we directly gain a proportionate
enhancement of the coflateral argument which proves the divine
origin of Christianity, from the fact of its spread, and its eventual
triumph over all opposition ; for the less it was, moraUy and
spirituafly, in its commencement, the stronger is the inference
to be derived from its steady advances.

104

ANTIQUITY OF THE OPINIONS

And then, as to the period immediately following the death of
the apostles, and of the men whom they personally appointed to
govern the churches, we have too easily, and without any sufficient
evidence, assumed the belief that a brightness and purity belonged
to it, only a shade or two less than what we have attributed to
the apostolic times. This belief is, in fact, merely the correla
tive of the common protestant notion concerning the progressive
corruptions of popery ; it being a natural supposition that the
higher we ascend toward the apostolic age, so much the more
truth, simplicity, and purity, must there have been in the church.
Thus it is that we have allowed ourselves to theorize, when
what we should have done, was simply to examine our
documents. The opinion that has forced itself upon my own mind, is to
this effect, that the period dating its commencement from the
death of the last of the apostles, or apostolic men, was, altogether,
as little deserving to be selected and proposed as a pattern, as
any one of the first five of church history : — it had indeed its
points of exceUence, and these of a high order, but it by no
means shone in those exemplary qualities which should entitle
it to the honour of being considered as a model to after ages.
We need therefore neither feel surprise nor alarm, when we find,
in particular instances, that the grossest errors of theory and
practice, are to be traced to the first century. In such instances,
for my own part, I can wonder at nothing but the infatuation
of those who, fully informed as they must be of the actual facts,
and benefited moreover by modern modes of thinking, can
nevertheless so prostrate their understandings before the phantom
— venerable antiquity, as to be inflamed with the desire of
inducing the christian world to imitate what really asks for
apology and extenuation. Any such endeavours must, however,
fafl ; nor can it be for more than a moment, after once the subject
has attracted general attention, that an illusion, so fantastic, can
hold the minds of any except a very few, who are constitutionally
disposed to admit it. When the bubble bursts, let the promoters
of ancient principles look to it, that they are provided with some
other means of keeping their doctrines in credit ; and I am far
from assuming that the general doctrines of the Oxford Tract

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. 105
writers' wfll disappear along with the prejudice they have laboured
to support, in favour of ancient Christianity.
The actual origination of the doctrine and practice concerning
religious celibacy might be very satisfactorily laid open ; but it
would carry us too far from our more immediate object to pursue
this subject ; all that I am now concerned with is the fact, that an
error which, as I shall be able to show, affected every element of
the theological and ecclesiastical system, had acquired the stabifity
which time only can confer, at the earliest period when the
references to it are explicit and ample.
Tertulfian might properly be brought forward again, as a
witness, under this second head of the argument. Suffice it to
say, that, -how extravagant soever may have been the opinions
which he adopted, concerning the unlawfulness of second mar
riages, and their extreme impropriety in the case of the clergy,
the principles he assumes, and on which he reasons, as admitted
on all hands, imply nothing less than that, within little more than
one hundred years after the death of St. John, an obloquy had
come to be attached, in the minds of christians generally, to the
matrimonial connexion, as if it involved a degree of impurity,
and rendered a man less fit to officiate as a priest, or, as the
notion was, as a mediator between God, and the mass of chris
tians. It is also certain that, as a consequence of these prevailing
notions, a voluntary abjuration of the sexual relationship had come
to be considered as highly meritorious — next to martyrdom ; and
further, that, in imitation of the analogous pagan institutes, an
order of dedicated virgins had been established, and that these
constituted a distinct band, or choir, a grex segregatus, in the
church ; — to what good purpose let Cyprian say.
Digamus tinguis ? Digamus offers ? asks the indignant Tertul
lian ; * ' shall one who has contracted a second marriage baptize ;
or shall such a one make the eucharistic oblation ? ' Now let us
coolly consider how much is involved, as found in a writer of so
early an age, in a question such as this : — for it plainly implies
the concurrence of the christian community in certain feelings —
such as that of a false sensitiveness, in regard to exterior purity,
and a superstitious feeling toward the sacraments, as if they
• De Exhort. Cast.

106

antiquity OP THE OPINIONS

demanded, in the administrator, certain personal qualities, or
exemptions, which might be dispensed with in those who con
ducted the ordinary offices of worship ; and a befief too that
degrees of spiritual merit, were attached to degrees of separation
from the ordinary relationships of life. From such notions, gene
rally prevafling, nothing could in the end result but what we find
actuaUy to have resulted, namely — the monastic institute — the
enforced celibacy of the clergy, and the superstition of the sacra
ments. But I now fix upon the mere fact, that such notions had
already gained the authentication of time, at the close of the
second century.
Looking only to the evidence furnished by TertuUian, we might
be led to believe that the celibate institution had its origin in the
culpable ambition of the leaders of the church, to secure for it the
glory of possessing whatever, in the heathen system around them,
appeared at once heroic, and capable of amalgamation with Chris
tianity. Satan, it was alleged, had too long monopolized certain
good things, which it was now high time to snatch from his
grasp : and among these, the principal was the sacerdotal celibacy,
enjoined upon the ministers of some divinities, and the consecra
tion of the vestal virgins. Unhappfly, this same ambition, impious
as it was, took effect upon, and perverted, every other element of
visible Christianity.
But this was not all ; and if we extend our researches a little
further, and higher, we shaU find the indications of the, perhaps,
blameless existence of this practice, reaching up to the actual
times of the aposdes. What then ? wiU it follow that, because
certain individuals, who, from temperament, came within the
meaning of our Lord's recommendation (Matt. xix. 12) devoted
themselves to a single life, in order to be free from aU entangle
ments which might withdraw them from evangelic and charitable
labours— does it foUow that, therefore, a celestial pre-eminence
should have been arrogated by, or for them, or that shoals of
young persons, without regard had to their individual tempera
ment, should have been urged in moments of factitious excite
ment, to bind themselves by a rash vow ? Here was the false step
of the early church ; a step which would never have been taken,
unless, already, the true purport of the gospel had been misunder-

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. 107
stood, and the form of godliness had been put in the place of the
power and substance of it.
The , good Justin,* in recommending to the imperial philoso
pher and persecutor, the principles and practices of his christian
brethren, makes it his boast that he could point to many, men as
well as women,. who, having followed the christian institute from
their earliest years, had remained, to an advanced age — sixty
and seventy years, incorrupt — a<pdopoi SiayiiEvoucri, unmarried, or
inviolate. These persons then, must have so devoted themselves
very soon after the martyrdom of Paul and Peter ; and the prac
tice having rapidly spread itself throughout the church, and being
at once promoted and exaggerated by the influence of persecution,
soon brought it, that is to say, within the compass of another
thirty or forty years, to its nearly mature state ; such, in fact, as
we find it in the times of Cyprian. In his time, as we have seen,
the prevafling practice had generated notions palpably contra
dictory to the apostolic precepts. Paul had assumed that, ordi
narily, both bishops and deacons, were to be married men ;
and he clearly implies that, in the exemplary discharge of the
domestic duties, they would find the best opportunities for adorn
ing their ministerial function. A bishop's wife, was, in Paul's
idea, a main article in a bishop's qualification for ruling the
church of God ; and a deacon's chfldren were to furnish, to a
deacon, the best occasions for exhibiting the influence of christian
principles. Such was apostolic Christianity — a system of real,
not of fictitious purity ; a system of virtue and piety, adapted to
the purpose of elevating and blessing man's actual condition,
in the present state. Did there attach to the apostle's idea of
the matrimonial connexion any, even the remotest idea, of im
purity, or of spiritual degradation ? Boldly we say, not the
faintest supposition of moral or religious contamination entered
his mind, in relation to this subject. The apostles were intent
upon the establishment, not of celibacy, but of virtue !
Such, we say, was apostolic Christianity ; but not such was
ancient CHRISTIANITY, cveu that of the age immediately following
the death of the apostles. Nor does the difference reach to the
mere amount of a diversity of usage, or of a shade of feefing ;
* Second Apology.

108 ANTIQUITY OF THE OPINIONS
but it involves nothing less than the substitution of one principle
of virtue and piety, for another. The scheme of religious senti
ments had shifted its foundations— a different standard of good
and evil had come to be appealed to, and the commandments of
God were displaced, without scruple, by the whims of man ; so
that, within so short a period as a hundred years, the very prac
tices which Paul had solemnly commended were impiously spoken
of as degrading, by TertuUian, who, in this instance, only reflects
the general feeling of his times.
At the present moment, the christian community, and espe
cially the clergy of the episcopal church, are called upon to make
their choice between apostolic Christianity, and ancient
CHRISTIANITY ; and this weighty alternative must soon merge all
other distinctions, leaving only the two parties — the adherents
of the inspired, and those of the uninspired documents of our
religion. But now I shall be told that I have inferred far too much from
the language of the intemperate and montanist Tertullian, in
respect of the sentiments of the church at large, in his times.
I am provided against this objection, and can rebut it by evidence
altogether of another kind.
When a question arises concerning the existence, or prevalence,
at a particular era, of certain opinions, the first mode of esta
blishing the.,aUeged fact, is that of citing the language of writers
who expficitly profess such doctrines ; but then this direct evi
dence may be fiable to a demur, inasmuch as it may be imagined
¦ that these writers are advancing nothing better than their per
sonal notions, in behalf of which they are assuming a more
general acceptance than they were entitled to claim for them.
But even this demur is removed when it can be shown, as in the
instance of Tertullian, that a writer himself distinguishes between
the common opinion, and the one which he is labouring to
promote. But aUowing, for a moment, the pertinence of the objection,
we then turn to our second class of proofs, which consists of
passages from writers who, impeUed by a reasonable anxiety for
what they consider as endangered truths, vigorously oppose the
very opinions in question, as generally prevalent.

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. 1C9
Thus, if it were supposed (which cannot be actually granted,
the facts being indubitable) that Tertullian, fiery in temper, and
extravagant in sentiments, had been impelled to speak of the
institute of cefibacy, by anticipation, or as if it had, in his time,
received an authentication which, in truth, was not granted to it
until long afterward, what then are we to think when we find a
writer, earlier by some years than Tertullian, and a man of ex
tensive learning, who had visited the churches, throughout the
east, and the west, a man moreover of singular good sense, and
sobriety of judgment, labouring to defend the divine institution
of matrimony, against the swelling fanaticism of all around him ?
What conclusion are we to adopt when we hear the accomplished
master of the Alexandrian school, calmly asserting the great
principles of nature, and of genuine piety, which he saw were
likely to be swept away, as before a deluge of factitious excite
ment ? The only conclusion, surely, with which such facts will
consist is that which my second proposition embodies.
After plunging in TertuUian's turbid stream, it is a refreshment
to walk at ease, and breathing a wholesome atmosphere, in the
pleasant garden of Clement of Alexandria. Some dozen of the
fathers might be sifted, before we should get together as much
common sense as may be found, within the compass of a few
pages, in this writer.
We have heard TertuUian's doctrine in regard to the gradual
development of truth, from age to age ; the consequence of
which, if sound, is, that the christians of every age owe a pious
deference, not merely to the current orders, or the inventions of
the church authorities, in their own times ; but to all such
inventions, of preceding times, which in fact, as proceeding from
the same source, are not a whit less to be regarded, than the
dictates of written revelation. The writer now before us holds
a very different style, and in various instances manifests the
sense he had of the dangerous tendency of the human mind in
matters of religion to throw itself back indolently, upon antiquity,
and upon established custom. On this ground, and with a manly
freedom, he expostulates with the adherents of the ancient
polytheism ; and again, in those parts of his writings in which
he addresses christians, he does an honour to the divinely -inspired

^^"^ ANTIQUITY OF THE opinions
scriptures, and dissuades from an indolent deference to usage or
mere opinion, in a manner which distinguishes him, among the
church writers of his own, or of the foflowing ages. As a remedy
for that ignorance which is one of the causes of vice, he knows of
nothing but—' the convincing demonstrations of the testimony
of the scripture— the written truth ;' and here, by the way, he
incidentally refers to the defection or definquencies of ' multitudes
of the Lord's people,' in his times— a fact significant in relation
to our general argument. To some such he addresses himself,
' not indeed to the contumacious, who spurn all instruction, and
who, nevertheless, are more to be pitied than hated (a style of
speaking of heretics very unfike that employed by most of the
fathers) but to those whose errors might be treated as remediable.
WeU would it have been,' says he, 'for some (certain heretics)
had they been able to learn what was at first delivered (by the
holy apostles and teachers) in the inspired scriptures, instead
of giving heed to human doctrines. He therefore, and he alone,
may be accounted to live aright, who, pursuing his course from
year to year, in converse with, and in conformity to the scriptures,
keeps to the rule of the apostolic and ecclesiastical purity according
to the gospel, and those established truths which, as given by the
Lord, by the law, and by the prophets, whoever seeks shall
find.'* Our learned Alexandrian, along with his contemporaries, might
err in particular interpretations of the scriptures ; but at least he
pays homage to their sole and unrivalled authority, in all matters
of faith and practice : his errors therefore, whatever they may be,
are not seeds of mischief. How different is the language of
Tertullian! In harmony with this simple adherence to the in
spired writings, and ^t the impulse of sound feelings, this writer
treats the subject of the christian use of riches, and also the rule
of martyrdom, on both of which points, even before his time, the
mass of christians had run into absurdities. In relation to the
latter subject, let Clement's good sense f be compared with the
extravagance of Ignatius. The comparison will afford a proof,
* Strom, lib. vii. Clement's entire testimony concerning the authority of
scripture, might well be adduced.
f Strom, lib. iv.

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. Ill
one of many, that the calm reason, and genuine dignity which
distinguish the conduct and writings of the apostles, did not
attach, even to their immediate successors.
But we have now to cite the evidence of Clement on the special
point in hand, and in proof of our position, that, although a
dissentient voice might be heard, once in a century, the church at
large had, from the earliest period to which our documents extend,
adnfltted a pernicious iUusion, subversive as well of morals as of
piety. The evidence of Clement, as I have stated, is of that con
clusive kind which results from the struggle of a solitary sound
mind, in resisting the inundation of error. Let it, however, be
remembered that, if in some of the passages now to be adduced,
the force of my inference might seem to be lessened by the
circumstance that our author is professedly contending with cer
tain heretics, and gnostics, and not opposing himself to the gene
ral opinion of the church, I have at hand the instant means of
excluding any such exception, by turning to the contemporary
orthodox writers, and their immediate successors, who go to the
same length of extravagance, saving some indecent phrases, which
Clement reports, as attaching to the opinions of the heretics he
names. I adduce him therefore, as an unexceptionable witness
to the alleged fact, that, within considerably less than a hundred
years from the death of the last of the apostles, the church, at
large, had yielded itself to a capital error of sentiment, practice,
and theory.
Clement,* while refuting, on the one side, the profligate, and on
the other side, the fanatical heretics of his time, employs scriptural
and rational arguments, of which neither Cyprian, nor Tertullian,
could have availed themselves, without condemning the system
to which they had pledged themselves. He urges, in a tone of
modern inteUigence, and in a manner of which very few instances
are to be found in the writings of the fathers, the general prin
ciple, that ' the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, or a
system of formal and visible observances, or of servile abstinences
from ordinary enjoyments ; but righteousness and peace : and
that it is the inner, not the outer man, which God chiefly looks
to.' He moreover points it out as a characteristic of ' antichrist,
' Strom, lib. iii.

J12

ANTIQUITY OF THE OPINIONS

and of the apostasy of the last times, that there should be those
who would forbid to marry, and command to abstain from meats ; '
and in fact he very nearly approaches a protestant style of re
monstrance, against the then spreading fanaticism. It appears
that, whfle the church had borrowed the institute of religious
celibacy from the heathen worship, it unhappfly avafled itself of
the wfld errors of heretics m getting up, among the people, the
false excitement whence this institute was to gather its victims.
Clement's regard to genuine principles, in asserting the honour and
sanctity of virtuous matrimony, not only contradicts the particular
errors of the heretics whom he names, but it stands opposed to
that notion which, almost everywhere else, presents itself, of moral
or spiritual degradation, as attaching to that state ; so as that those
who abjured it stood upon a higher platform, whence they might
look down, with pity or scorn, upon the mass of their brethren.
It was this very notion that was the seed of mischief, which, at an
early period, choked the ecclesiastical field with a rank and
poisonous vegetation.
• What,' asks our author,* ' what — may not self-command be
preserved under the conditions of married life ? May not marriage
be used, and yet continence respected, without our attempting to
sever that which the Lord hath joined ? ' Presently afterwards he
touches the principle of real virtue, which the church at large was
then losing sight of, in the pursuit of a phantom. ' The kingdom
of God is not meat and drink ; and in like manner as genuine
humflity consists in meekness of soul, not in the maceration of
the body ; so, and in like manner (true) continence is a virtue
of the soul, and relates to that which is hidden (in the heart) not
to the outward fife.'
Just so much good sense and christian truth as this, it is hard
to meet with, in whole folios of the fathers. What a different
story would church history have presented, if principles so mani
festly reasonable, had been generaUy regarded ! But now, at a
time earlier, only by a few years, than that in which we hear the
fanatic TertuUian, with affected horror, putting the question—
Digamus tinguis, Digamus offers, Clement demands of those
who would fain be holier than the Lord himself, whether they
• Strom, lib. iii. and vii.

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. 113
really meant to reprove the apostles, two of whom (at least) Peter
and Phflip, were fathers, the latter moreover having given his
daughters in marriage ; or Paul, who asks — ' Have we not power
to lead about a sister, a wife, even as the other apostles ? ' Further
on, our author, and with much copiousness, offers a eulogium of
Woman — Woman, the helper and companion of man — Woman,
the wife, and mother ; and in all which there is nothing of the
fulsome nonsense about virginity, which renders the perusal of the
fathers, often, so nauseating ; and he affirms too the equality of
the sexes, in regard to piety and virtue. If, in fact, Cyprian
and TertuUian had been writers of the ninth century, we might
well, in comparing them with Clement, have pointed to the dif
ference, vast and glaring as it is, ahd have thereby confirmed
ourselves in the common notion, that popery was a gradual
departure from the good sense and purity of the early times of
the church. But in truth, these writers were the contempo
raries of Clement, though younger men ; and the elements of
the Christianity of the period is to be found in their works, not
in his.It is true that many of the fathers, or most of them, in their
headlong course of fanaticism, and whfle beai.ing the ' drum eccle
siastic,' to get recruits for the monastery, think it due to their
reputation to pull in for a moment, once and again, and in so
many words to disclaim the heresy of attributing the matri
monial institute to the devfl. Yet the mere fact of their feeling
it necessary to do so, is proof enough of the extent to which they
were running. But Clement of Alexandria is almost the only
extant writer, of the early ages, who adheres to common sense,
and apostolic Christianity, through and through. Those who,
at a later date, ventured to protest against the universal error,
were instantly cursed and put down as heretics, by all the great
divines of their times ; and were, in fact, deprived of the means
of transmitting their opinions to be more equitably judged of by
posterity. It appears, or at least we should gather it from the language of
Clement, that, at Alexandria, the quire of virgins had not, in hi^
time, been regularly constituted, as a standing order in the
church; for where this band had been so sanctioned, it always
1

114 ANTIQUITY OF THE OPINIONS
took precedence of the corps of widows, and is mentioned, when
they, as a part of the ecclesiastical system, are mentioned. But
(Strom, lib. i.) where our author, in a formal manner, enume
rates the three orders of the clergy (as he does once and again)
presbyters, bishops, and deacons, he subjoins, ' and the widows.'
Now in the Apostolic Constitutions, as well as in the canons of
the ante-nicene councfls, and generally, in the writers of the
same period, where any enumeration of orders occurs, it is — ' the
virgins and the widows.'
In Clement's time, as he says, ' the wells of martyrdom were
flowing daily ; ' we may therefore presume that as much of
general seriousness, and sincerity attached to the christian com
munity then, as usually belonged to it ; and yet what sort of
description does he give us — altogether calm in its style — of the
usual appearances, on a Sunday, at the church doors, when the
congregation broke up ? Why, one might imagine oneself to be
loitering about the doors of a fashionable chapel, in London,
Bath, or Brighton. A world of iflusions is sometimes dispelled
by a very few simple sentences : and I think that were certain
devout and credulous worshippers of ' venerable antiquity,' and
of the ' holy and ancient catholic church,' by chance to open
upon the page of Clement which is now before me, having first
been told that it described the breaking up of an assembly of the
' martyr church,' within a hundred years after the death of St.
John, they would scarcely think themselves the same persons
after having read it. Yet there is nothing extraordinary in this
passage, there is no solemn fifting of a veil of mystery ; absolutely
nothing but an incidental allusion to facts of an ordinary kind ; — ¦
it is a description which might find its counterpart in any age,
or any country, and is worthy of being noted on no account but
because it tends to dissipate the unphflosophical, and, as it now
happens, the mischievous fancy about ' pristine purity,' and a
golden age, to which we ungodly moderns should yield our judg
ments and conform our practices.
' Those who make profession of Christianity,' says Clement,
' should be all of a piece — they should, in the entire course of
their lives, preserve a decorum and consistency, such as might
agree vrith the exterior gravity to which they fashion themselves.

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. 115
just whfle at church ; and they should strive to be, not merely
to appear, what they would pass for ; — so meek, so religious, so
loving. But now, and how it is I hardly know, our folks, with
change of place, change also their guise, and their modes of
behaviour ; and are something like polypi, which, as they say,
resemble the rock on which they chance to fasten, and take their
tinge from its colour. So these, the moment they get out of
chapel, lay aside the demure and godly colour of sanctity, which
they had worn whfle there ; and, mingling in the crowd, are no
longer to be distinguished from it. Or, as I ought rather to say,
they then put off that well fashioned mask of gravity, which they
had assumed, and are found to be such as they had not passed
for. After having reverently waited upon God, and heard of him
(in the church) they leave him there ; and, out of doors, find
their pleasure in ungodly fiddling, and love ditties, and what
not — stage playing, and gross revelries. Thus, while they sing
and respond, these (our people) who just before had been cele
brating the glories of immortality, wickedly take their part in the
most pernicious canticles ; — as if saying. Let us eat and drink,
for to-morrow we die. They indeed, not to-morrow, but now
already, are dead unto Gkid.'*
Much more, nearly to the same purport, might be cited, were
it needful, from the pages of Clement. In a word, his was an
unimpassioned mind ; and while (so far as he understood it) he
calmly and steadfly insisted upon the inspired rule of morality,
he saw things around him, just as they were, and speaks of them,
just as he found them ; and his testimony, about which there is
nothing cynical, ought to be accepted as of the highest value, in
correcting the false impression which is made upon our minds
by others, who, as they saw every thing in an artificial glare, so
allowed themselves a wide license in describing the illusions
of their own distempered sight. There are those, now, I do not
doubt, who, determined to retain the fond fancy of a golden pristine
age, will turn with resentment from a matter-of-fact writer fike
Clement, as if he did them a personal wrong in simply speaking
the truth. For my own part, I can And no pleasure in any tfiing,
bearing upon religion, but the plainest truth ; and the plain
* Pasdagog. lib. iii.
I 2

1 16 ANTIQUITY' OF THE OPINIONS
truth, in relation to the early church, is just to this effect — That,
although possessing, incidentally, certain prerogatives which
render its testimony and judgment, on particular points, peculiarly
important, even inestimable, it can advance no extraordinary
claim to reverence, on the supposed plea of having possessed
superior wisdom, discretion, or purity. And further, I am bold
to express my belief that, if we exclude certain crazed fanatics of
our times, the least esteemed community of orthodox christians,
among us — which ever that may be, if taken in the mass, and
fairly measured against the church catholic of the first two cen
turies, would outweigh it decisively in each of these qualities ;
I mean, in christian wisdom, in common discretion, in purity of
manners, and in purity of creed. Nay, I am strongly tempted
to think that, if our Oxford Tract divines themselves, and those
who are used to take the law from their lips, and to learn church
history at their feet, could but be blindfolded (if any such pre
caution, in their case were needed) and were fairly set down in
the midst of the pristine church, at Carthage, or at Alexandria,
or at Rome, or at Antioch, they would be fain to make their
escape, with all possible celerity, toward their own times and
country ; and that thenceforward we should never hear another
word from them about ' venerable antiquity,' or the holy catholic
church of the first ages. The effect of such a trip would, I think,
resemble that produced sometimes by crossing the Atlantic, upon
those who have set out, westward, excellent liberals, and have
returned eastward, as excellent tories.
There is one very simple illusion, or, as one might cafl it,
chronological fallacy, which it may seem almost an affront to
common sense to mention ; and yet I befieve that more than a
few are set wrong a fifty years or even more, in their notions of
christian history in this very way. For instance, when the
second century is spoken of, one may, without thought, admit
the supposition that a period of something fike two hundred
years, dating from the death of the apostles, is intended ; whereas
the notions or practices referred to, as belonging to the second
century, may have had place within the distance of one hundred
years from the cessation of the apostolic influence ; and in fact
they may be as ancient as any thing concerning which we are

CONCERNING RELIGIOUS CELIBACY. 117
to derive our information from uninspired writers. It is thus
with the practices with which we are now concerned ; and
which are as ancient as any other characteristics of ancient
Christianity. I have referred, above, to Justin's statement concerning those
who had dedicated themselves to the Lord, at a time when some
ofthe apostles yet survived. Ignatius clearly alludes to the same
practice, as then prevalent ; and he does so in terms indicative of
the false sentiments which have in all ages been the attendants
of this fll considered endeavour to be ' religious over much.' ' If
any one* be able to abide in purity (celibacy) in honour of the
Lord's flesh, let him do so without boasting. If he boast, he is
lost ; or if he consider himself, on that account, to be more than
the bishop, he perishes.'
It is not surmising too much to assume it as probable that,
among the means resorted to by the self-wflled and contumacious,
for resisting the episcopal authority, and of which Ignatius was so
zealous an advocate, this setting up for a fakir, was one, and
perhaps it was one of the most efficacious. And as, at a later
time, the confessors found themselves possessed of a credit with
the populace which enabled them to defy legitimate authority, so,
from the very first, whoever could be stark ascetic enough to
make himself the idol of the rabble, became a leader of faction,
overawing the bishops and presbyters. Unhappily these, and the
long series of writers, favoured, instead of wisely repressing, the
false pietism that subverted order as well as morals. I would
not however omit to mention that Ignatius, as well as Hermas,
fuUy vindicates matrimony, and honours woman.
To the same purport as in the passage cited above, but in terms
just so far diversified as to carry a fittle more historical meaning,
this father says to the Phflippians, after exhorting husbands
and wives to love each other, ' If any lead the life of purity
(preserve virginity), or if any one practise continence (that is,
either withdraw from husband or wife ; or, being widowed, avoid
a second marriage) let him not be lifted up in mind, le.st he lose
the reward.' Much is comprehended in these few words ; as,
first, and in general, a clear allusion to the then frequent practice
' Epist. ad Polj carp.

lis ANTIQUITY OF THE OPINIONS, ETC.
or religious celibacy ; next, there is a note of the distinction which
we find carefuUy observed, between the pure, and the continent —
terms equivalent, in ecclesiastical import, to the correlatives — ¦
virgin, and widow, the former occupying a loftier place of honour
than the latter. In another place he says — ' Guard the virgins,
as Christ's jewels,' an epithet often afterward applied to them.
Ignatius also uses, and perhaps was the author of that favourite
phrase applied to virgins — ' the espoused to Christ.' Next, there
is the necessary caution against that pride which had been found
to attend this species of church nobility ; and lastly, there is the
reference to that definite and peculiar celestial remuneration which
was to attach to the band of virgins. Each of these indications,
minute as they may seem, is pertinent to an historical inquiry.
The Apostolic Constitutions are manifestly a very early, although
a spurious work ; and were put together with the intention of its
passing as the production of the apostolic age. So far it may
safely be cited as good evidence in our present inquiry ; and here
we find fully admitted that general feeling of the ancient church
upon which Tertuflian labours to build a still loftier doctrine. I
mean, the feeling that, although a priest might be a married man,
yet that a degree of degradation attached to that condition, so as
that, either to marry after ordination, or to have contracted a.
second marriage, was a total disqualification for the sacred office ;*
this rule exhibits the bondage of early christians to the false
principle which put forms for substances ; for, in allowing to the
inferior church officers, the singers, readers, and door keepers, a
little more license, it assumes first, the absurdity that there could
be degrees of holiness, corresponding to the degrees of ecclesias
tical dignity ; and then, that the circumstance of being married,
or single, or the having married once, or twice, had any thing
whatever to do with a christian's real sanctity. This twofold
delusion, pitiable as we must think it, stands forward as the broad
characteristic of the ancient church catholic. These Constitu
tions name also the two choirs, of nuns and vridows, as then per
manently constituted. The former, however, are warned against
professing rashly ; and it is forbidden to employ any means of
compulsion in inducing them to do so ; — ' for, in regard to the
* Lib vi. L-. ir.

CONNEXION OF THE SUBJECT, ETC. 119
virgin state, we have no commandment (as from the Lord) only
that, once having professed, such should adorn their profession.' *
The passages that have been cited, and, if these were not
enough, three times the quantity are at hand to be produced, f
may, I think, be accepted as warranting what is affirmed in my
second proposition, concerning the high antiquity of the notions,
and of the accompanying practices, of religious celibacy. That is
to say, this institute, with all that it involves, is as ancient as any
other element of ancient Christianity, and may claim from us as
much regard as is urged in behalf of any other practice or opinion,
on the ground of antiquity. In one word, religious celibacy
comes fully under the quod semper, or first condition of Vincent's
rule of catholicity.

CONNEXION OF THE SUBJECT WITH THE
PRESENT CONTROVERSY.
We have next to look at the^Quon ubique, and the — quod
AB omnibus, in relation to our present subject; that is to show,
that this principle, and these practices, belonged to, and were
thoroughly approved of by, the ancient church, throughout its
whole extent, so far as our historical materials enable us to
ascertain the fact ; and that they were explicitly maintained and
promoted, by all the leaders of the religious commonwealth, and
were excepted against by only here and there a solitary voice,
which was almost instantly stifled by the zeal of the many.
How warmly soever the inference I have in view may be
resented by some, I am sure they are not the persons who will
come forward to call in question the facts which I here assuma
* Further on the Apostolical Constitutions are more fully cited.
t The progress of Oxford Tract opinions may make it necessary to open
up the subject much more completely than has been here attempted.

120 CONNEXION OF THE SUBJECT
On this ground therefore, the actual citation of proofs might be
waived. But in truth, as the establishment and iUustration of
my fifth thesis will demand a reference, more or less copious,
to the extant works of the principal ecclesiastical writers of the
first five centuries, these citations wfll, of course, embrace what
ever would have offered itself as proper for establishing the third
and fourth propositions. We may therefore save ourselves the
labour of going through a mass of duplicate evidences ; and I
therefore, once for all, request it to be borne in mind that, if
either of these propositions were disputed, an ample confirmation
of it is to be found in the series of quotations which are to
sustain the fifth. For the present then, I assume it as incon
trovertible, whatever consequences it may be found to involve,
that the doctrine and custom of religious celibacy was an article
of ancient Christianity, accepted and followed — semper, ubique,
et ab omnibus.
But at this point I am anxious to anticipate, and to preclude,
some probable exceptions by means of which it may be attempted
to evade the general inference I have in view. As for example ;
there may be those, although it is certainly not the well informed,
who will say, ' This notion, and these practices, so far as they
might be culpable, were incidental merely, and may easily be
separated from the general scheme of ancient Christianity, leaving
us free to admire and imitate all the rest.' Now, I must ask,
what are the senses in which, in such a connexion, we might
fairly apply the term incidental, to an error of opinion and
practice ? The word may mean then, a notion or practice which
gained credit only for a whfle, and which, having had its day, was
forgotten ; or at most, rose to the surface only at remote intervals.
But in no such sense as this was the doctrine of religious celibacy
incidental to the ancient church ; for there is no period, ever so
short, that can be named, during which it lost its place or
importance : on the contrary, it has steadily held its — we may
significantly say, proud pre-eminence, from the earliest times to
the latest.
Or, incidental may mean, in this instance, that, whfle some of
the ancient churches warmly embraced the notion, and carried
their admiration of it to an extravagant length, in other depart-

WITH THE PRESENT CONTROVERSY. 121
ments of the christian commonwealth it was little heard of, or
was coolly regarded, or actuaUy discountenanced. But in this
sense also the term is excluded, inasmuch as the churches of the
east, and the west, the north, and the south, vied with each other
in their zeal on this ground; or if aU looked toward the east —
Syria and Egypt, for the brightest patterns of exceUence, in this
walk of virtue, aU showed substantially the same devotion in
ascending the arduous path ; and many were the pious pilgri
mages, of some of which the memorials are on our shelves, that
were undertaken expressly for the purpose of importing, into the
remotest christian regions, the spirit and usages of this very
institute. Or again ; the term incidental, thus employed, might mean —
an opinion or institution, zealously promoted by a party or
faction, within, or without the church ; but by no means favoured
by its authorities, or by the mass of its members. In no such
sense then can we here employ the word. From age to age, it
was the church authorities — it was the most illustrious teachers
and writers, that made it their glory to magnify this institute,
and to extend its influence ; nor were they, on this subjcjt,
listened to unwillingly by the people.
There is however one other sense of the word in which, if it
could in fact be applied to the subject, it might be held either to
loosen, or to lessen the force of the serious inferences I am
intending. That is to say, if it could be affirmed that the theolo
gical principle, and the moral sentiment, embodied in the institute
of religious celibacy, are easily separable from the theological,
ethical, and ecclesiastical system of which it was an adjunct ; and
that it had therewith no such intimate alliances as would render
a disjunction difficult ; or such as must affect the whole : then
indeed it would only remain for us to perform the desirable
amputation, and so to restore health and symmetry to the body.
But that no such allegation can be sustained, I shall be able, as
1 think, to prove ; and, in doing so, shall, as I confidently hope,
succeed in affording the most convincing proof of the fact, that
the christian teachers, almost from the very first, and while they
held the formal elements of truth, or, as it is called — orthodoxy,
grosjly misapprehended the genius and purport of Christianity ;

122

CONNEXION OF THE SUBJECT

and, as a consequence of this misapprehension, turned out of its
course every christian institute, and placed on a false foundation
every principle of virtue ; and thus transmuted the christian
system into a scheme which could find no other fixed form than
that of a foul superstition, and a lawless despotism.
I think, moreover, that the intimacy of the connexion between
the institute in question, and the other elements of ancient Chris
tianity, wfll so appear as may serve to clear up the practical
embarrassments that have attached, in modern times, to every
endeavour to realize these, apart from the other. Such imitations
have always demanded some foreign aid to keep them in existence,
and can subsist only so long as they may chance to derive vital
force and nutriment from an extraneous body. In this conviction
I can think nothing else probable but that, should the scheme of
doctrine maintained in the Oxford Tracts become, by any means,
actually detached from its present hold on the civfl and eccle
siastical institutions of the country, and be exempted also from
restraint ; — in a word, fairly left to itself, and aUowed to foUow
its innate affinities, it would instantly resume its severed element
— the ancient doctrine and practice of celestial virginity.
But we must meet, in all its strength, a startling difficulty
which wifl have occurred to some, in reflecting upon the facts to
which, in the preceding pages, I have made reference. Granting,
as we must, that the institute of cefibacy, when it reached its
mature state, and involving, as it necessarfly did, an open con
travention of the apostolic precepts concerning the clergy, was a
great and mischievous error, yet did it not take its rise from the
language of our Lord himself, and of Paul ? and does not the
conduct of those who, in the first instance, devoted themselves to
cefibacy, stand excused from reprehension, at the least, if it be
not fully justified, by the passages of scripture usually cited in
this instance ?
Now I wish the difficulty thus stated to be felt in its utmost
force. Let it be granted then, that the entire scheme, with all
its consequences, and which have constituted, in the end, the vital
elements of the romish superstition, took its commencement, and
in a manner barely culpable, from certain expressions (albeit
misunderstood) of the inspired writings. Now this admission,

WIIH THE PRESENT CONTROVERSY. 1.23
which I think must in candour be made, gives us precisely that
connecting link, which renders the instance available for the
purpose, with a view to which it has been here adduced. Unless
it had appeared that the principle and practice of religious celibacy
took their start from a misinterpretation of the scriptures them
selves, neither that high antiquity which we have proved to attach
to them, nor the universal testimony of the church in their favour,
would have warranted the use I am making of the instance, as
closely analogous to the several points now controverted.
But as it stands, there is absolutely nothing that can be
advanced in favour of any one of those now disputed articles
of belief, or of usage, which may not, and to the whole extent of
the terms, be pleaded in behalf of the institute of celibacy. Are
they immemorially ancient ? — so is this. Did they receive the
assent and warm approbation of the long series of christian
doctors ? — so did this. Were they acknowledged and followed
out in the practices of the apostolic churches, throughout the
world ? — so was this ; and finaUy — May they pretend to a colour
of support from some few expressions of the inspired writers ? —
so may this. I challenge contradiction in affirming that the
monastic system, and the celibacy of the clergy, rest on ground
as wide, and as solid, as that which sustains any one of the doc
trines or practices wliich it has been the pecufiar intention of the
Oxford Tracts to recommend.
There are, as I presume, very few protestants (it is hard to
imagine how there can be one such) or any clergyman of the
protestant church, who would profess to think the monkish insti
tute abstractedly good, and the cefibacy of the clergy a wise and
useful provision ; or who would wish to see this system, and the
notions and sentiments that attend it, brought back upon us,
in any form whatever. Although it may have been fondly em
braced—semper, ubique, et ab omnibus, it is fo be rejected ; and
although it may have its texts of scripture at hand, nevertheless
it is to be rejected. In this instance, we claim exemption, not
merely from the usurpations and corruptions of Rome, but from
the unbroken and loudly uttered authority of the holy cathofic
church ; and when it was in its (supposed) condition of pristine
purity. Nor is this aU ; for we go on calmly to consider the real

124 CONNEXION OF THE SUBJECT
import of the passages which have been made to bear the weight
of this system ; and we compare such single passages with the
plain import of other passages ; and with the general purport of
the inspired writings ; and we judge of them also by considering
the genius and spirit of the gospel ; and having done so, we find
no real difficulty remaining : but only a very simple case,
demanding, just what is demanded always, namely, the exercise
of sound good sense and discrimination.
But alas ! the leaders of the early church would exercise no
such discrimination ". they would give place to no dictates of calm
good sense ; and having surrendered themselves to a headlong
enthusiasm, the opposing import of other portions of scripture was
totally overlooked, or perversely evaded ; and they followed
whither they were led ; and they led after them the church uni
versal, until all plunged together into an abyss of error and
corruption. Now the course which every protestant (as I assume) is abso
lutely compelled to take, when he is called upon to consider the
romish celibate ; namely, to hold in abeyance his reverence for
antiquity, and to claim exemption from the decisions of the holy
catholic church, and to examine, with care and calmness, the real
purport of scripture, taken at large, is neither more nor less than
what every sober-minded protestant is, as I think, bound to do,
when challenged to yield himself to certain other notions and
practices, characteristic of ancient Christianity. To do any thing
less than this, is virtually to surrender all that stands between us
and the monstrous superstitions of the times of Gregory the great.
We may not perhaps become romanists ; but we must, in all con
sistency, become such as that it were better to accept romanism,
whole and entire. A well-defined and authoritative system
involving elements of evil, is surely much to be preferred to an
undefined system, involving the very same elements ; and I
firmly believe that it were, on the whole, better for a community
to submit itself, without conditions, to the well-known tridentine
popery, than to take up the Christianity of Ambrose, Basfl, Gre
gory Nyssen, Chrysostom, Jerome, and Augustine. Personally,
I would much rather be a christian after the fashion of Pascal,
and Arnold, than after that of Cyprian, or Cyrfl ; but how much

WITII THE PRESENT CONTROVERSY. 125
rather, after that of our own protestant worthies, who, although
entangled by fond notions about the ancient church, were, in
heart, and in the main bent of their fives and opinions, foflowers,
not of the fathers, but of the apostles !
The great men I have referred to— the glory of our engfish
protestantism, were, it must be confessed, entangled with some of
the errors of ancient Christianity ; and they were so in a degree
that has involved the church they founded in some serious diffi
culties : but we may not boast over them ; for we are ourselves
stiU labouring with the illusion concerning — venerable antiquity,
and the purity of the early ages ; nor wifl it be very soon that
this inveterate prejudice wfll be finaUy broken up.
In concluding this tract, I will endeavour plainly to state the
case which this prejudice involves ; and moreover, wiU view it,
as from the position of those who religiously receive the doctrines
of the Oxford Tracts.
The writers of these tracts have, and, as I must humbly think,
in a very seasonable as well as able manner, protested against
the modern phase of infidelity, called — rationalism, and which, if
followed out consistently, can come to nothing but, first unita
rianism, and then deism, and then pantheism, and then the purQst
atheism. They may have taken an unfair advantage of the
incautious language of some weU-meaning writers ; but yet have,
as I think, truly exhibited the inner quality, and the necessary
tendency of this modern scheme of theology. Moreover, they
have not merely protested against this prevailing illusion, but
have admitted the fact that it has acfually become the type of our
modern protestant Christianity ; and also, have intimated their
fears that, unless vigorously repelled, it wfll, ere long, embrace
the protestant world, a few remonstrants excepted, and propel all
down the slippery descent toward universal unbelief.
Now let us for a moment suppose that nearly as much as this,
melancholy as is the idea, had actually come about in our times ;
and that (the few remonstrants excepted) there were no other form
of genuine belief extant in the world than that of the romish
church, which, as is admitted, is laden with corruptions. In such
a case then, nor does it appear why we may not imagine it as
possible, or even as probable, there would prevafl, notwithstanding

126 CONNEXION OF THE SIBJECT
our Lord's promise to be with his church always, an almost
universal defection or apostasy — on the one side toward atheism,
on the other side toward superstition.
We suppose such an apostasy to have had place, in the nine
teenth century : what then stands in the way of our supposing
an analogous defection to have belonged to some preceding age,
or even to the first, or to the second ? If we say — the extant
historical evidence contradicts any such supposition, this is the
very point in dispute ; nor can I allow the question to be begged
so easily. But what general principle is there which forbids our
admitting such a supposition ? Not any vague belief concerning
the divine benevolence toward mankind ; for this is unchangeable ;
and, if it must have prevented an apostasy in the first century,
must also have prevented it in the nineteenth ; nor by the same
rule, can we admit any other contravening principle, as ap
plicable to the one period, which does not equally apply to the
other. Among the predictive promises, or the official instructions
addressed by our Lord to his personal followers, some, very
clearly, were applicable to themselves individually, and ceased to
have any operation or efficacy, at the moment when the functions
of these individuals were fulfilled. Other of these promises, not
less clearly, are the property of his servants and ministers, in all
ages : but is there so much as one of them, which, while it passes
onward beyond the individuals who first heard it, yet does not
pass forward for the benefit of the church universal, but stays
within certain limits, as for example, the limits of the first, the
second, or the third centuries ? In other words, was there any
promise of guidance, or of assistance, or of exemption from error,
granted to the ancient church, other than what belongs, in its
fullest force, to the church of all ages ? I presume it cannot be
pretended that the ancient church had any such advantage over
ourselves ; or that it was in any sense whatever the occupier of a
peculiar benefit ' on lease,' or ' for a term of years.'
But if not, then the question concerning the actual condition of
the ancient church is entirely open ; and after we have dispeUed
from our minds, the notion, chfldish as it is, about ' antiquity,'
and a ' golden age,' we then turn, vrith perfect coolness, to the

WITH THE PRESENT CONTROVERSY. 127
documents in our possession, and submit its pretensions to a
candid, but unsparing analysis.
If the ancient church was benefited by no interpositions more
direct than those which, in every age, have maintained truth, and
preserved piety from extinction, then we must believe, and must
expect to find our belief verified, that, in coming as it did, suddenly,
and without the aid of any experience, into contact with the most
prodigious evils, it at once imparted an impulse, and admitted an
impulse :¦ — or, as we say in mechanics, action and re-action were
equal. Did Christianity encounter the rigid, punctilious, and
self-righteous pietism of the Jew ? In the collision the Judaism
of those of the hebrew race who embraced the gospel, gave way
to some extent, and was christianized ; and, in return, Christianity
was judaized. Or, did it meet the vain philosophy and platonism
of the speculative Greek and gnostic ? it did so ; and platonism
and Christianity thenceforward were intimately commingled. Did
it impinge upon human society, then debauched in a most extra
ordinary degree ? it did so, and, with a violent revulsion, it dis
torted its own principles of virtue, in an equally extreme degree.
Finally, did the refigion of the New Testament, rational, spiritual,
pure, confront the degrading superstitions of the pagan world ?
it did so, and on this ground, while it bore a clear testimony
against the doctrine and the flagitious practices of polytheism,
yet merged itself in the boundless superstition of the times, as a
system of fear, spiritual servitude, formality, scrupulosity, visible
magnificence of worship, mystery, artifice, and juggle. Such were
the antagonist principles, in contending with each of which the
holy religion of Christ triumphed in each instance, and in each
was trampled upon ; conquered and was conquered ; — diffused
light and health, and admitted darkness and corruption.
Nevertheless its utter extinction was prevented : — the external
means of its regeneration were preserved, and the times of rege
neration actuafly came. Forgetting the things that were behind,
and returning once again to the long-buried scriptures, the church
has regained its vitality ; and, amid a thousand errors, lives, and
prepares herself to occupy the world, for her Lord.
But if there be only the most general verisimilitude in the
representations, above given, in what fight are we to view the

123

CONNE.XION OF THE SUBJECT

strange endeavour to bring back, upon the modern and revived
church, the very notions and practices that were the consequences
of the struggles ofthe ancient church with its antagonists ? Shall
we indeed be led to reverence and imitate the very articles that
are to be pointed to as marking the admixture of christiaftity
with Judaism — with gnosticism — with pagan corruption — and with
polytheistic superstition ? Shafl we part from our refigion, as we
find it fixed in the scriptures, and madly foflow it, in its first
fearful plunge into the bottonfless gulf of spiritual darkness and
moral pollution ? If the phrase — christian antiquity, can be
allowed to convey no idea of pre- eminence beyond what the
strict rules of historical logic may, under all the circumstances,
allow to it, then, manifestly, the inexperienced struggles of the
infant religion with its formidable foes, how well soever they may
merit our admiration, are less likely than almost any other cycle
of religious events, to secure our cool approval, or to command
our submission, as if then a pattern of wisdom and order were to
be given to the church of all ages.
A religious mind, after having contemplated the changing scene
of human error and folly, from age to age, and after admitting, for
a while, some painful sentiments of reprehension, in thinking of
the authors and promoters of such errors, gladly turns, first, to
those many circumstances of extenuation which may be advanced
in behalf of these mistaken men, and which allow us, notwith
standing, to think of them as our brethren in Christ. But then,
such a mind seeks a further solace, in tracing, dimly perhaps, the
apparent purposes of Him who, even when most he allows evfl
to have its course, yet sways the general movement, and urges
forward still the development of his mighty scheme of universal
government. A religious mind holds to the belief that He who
worketh, in all things, according to the counsel of his own will,
has, in every age, been evolving a settled plan ; whether or not it
may be intelligible to the human mind.
Now in this belief, we are led at once to look, if not with more
complacency, at least vrith less distress, upon particular forms of
what we must still regard as capital error, and to think of them
as, in some way, temporary adaptations of truth to the
CIRCUMSTANCES OF MANKIND, at such Or such a pcriod : in this-

WITH THE PRESENT CONTROVERSY. 129
light considered, the .sharpness of our displeasure is broken down,
and our stern condemnation tempered. There is a real, and, as
I think, a legitimate consolation, to be derived from considera
tions of this sort. But then the very principle whence it is
derived, namely, that the Lord has been giving place to accom
modations, or appliances of this sort, from age to age, thereby
effecting a slow, and often-retarded progression, in advancing the
religious condition of mankind, this principle, I say, implies an
unutterable absurdity in the endeavour, made at any advanced
period of the great scheme, to revert to a position long ago passed
by and obsolete.
If we comfort ourselves with the thought that a vast scheme
has been, from the first, in movement, the end of which shall be
the universal triumph of truth and peace, then must we be think
ing of any thing rather than of a turning back upon the great road
of the church's progress, and of forfeiting the toils of centuries ;
or, in other words, of rendering ourselves, by imitation, such as
that which, when it actuaUy existed, was but a low afloy of
truth, permitted or winked at for a whfle. And if, in any sense,
we aflow ourselves to be called protestants, our profession must
imply the acknowledgment that the great scheme of religious
development has, during the last three centuries, made a con
spicuous demonstration, and has set us forward far, very far in
advance of the position occupied by our predecessors of the
fourteenth century. Who must not acknowledge this ? What
impiety to deny it !
And what have been the characteristics of this modern advance
ment ? Not the devising of novelties in religion, as something
that might be added to the apostolic model ; not the boldly
taking the scriptures in hand, with the endeavour to cut them
down to our liking, or to cast them in the mould of our modern
philosophy. This has not been the course we have taken ; but
the very reverse, namely, an intent reference to the apostolic
authority, in all things, and an almost overwrought anxiety to
know, and to embody, the very form of apostofic Christianity.
Whereas now, such being the character and specific quality of the
course of events in the church, in modern times, the character
arid the quality of the course of events in the ancient church, was
K

130 CONNEXION OF THE SUBJECT, ETC.
the very contrary, namely, a perpetual superposition of materials
upon the apostolic foundation, at the capricious bidding of super
stition, enthusiasm, fanaticism, spiritual tyranny, craft, and hypo
crisy : — such being, when the two periods are broadly regarded,
the distinctive and contrasted features of each, no powers of
language come to one's aid when one would fain express the
sense one has of the folly of the endeavour to induce the church
to relinquish its own hopefiil characteristic, and to put on that of
the long gone-by period of ignorance, decay, delusion ! The
Lord himself disappoint any such mad attempt !

R. CLAV, PRINTER, EHiAU 3IREf;T HILL, LONDON.

'ko. a.] IPriee 2s. Gd.

ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY,
&c. &c.

STATEMENT OF THE ARGUMENT.
The course of our argument in the present instance is straight
forward, and the inference it involves is clear and conclusive. I
have undertaken to show, by numerous citations, not merely that
the doctrine and practice of religious celibacy occupied a promi
nent place in the theological and ecclesiastical system of the nicene
church, a fact hardly needing to be proved, but that the institute
was intimately connected with, and that it powerfully affected,
every other element of ancient Christianity, whether dogmatic,
ethical, ritual, or hierarchical. If then such a connexion can be
proved to have existed, we ought either to adopt these notions
and usages, or should surrender very much of our veneration for
christian antiquity.
The fact of the intimate connexion here affirmed is really not
less obvious or easfly established than that of the mere existence
of the institute itself. Modern church writers may indeed have
thrown the unpleasing subject into the background, and so it
may have attracted much less attention than its importance
deserves : but we no sooner open the patristic folios, than we find
it confronting us, on almost every page ; and if either the general
averment were questioned, or the bearing of the celibate upon
every part of ancient Christianity were denied, volumes might be
filled with the proofs that attest the one as well as the other.
Both these facts must he admitted by all unprejudiced inquirers

134 STATEMENT OF
who shall take the pains to look into the books where the evi
dence is to be found.
But of what sort, then, was the influence which flowed from the
notions and usages of the ancient celibacy? Was it beneficial
or pernicious ; or was it neither the one nor the other — an in
noxious ingredient, which might have been withdrawn, without
either sensible advantage, or serious detriment? This question
we have the means of bringing to a satisfactory conclusion ; or
even if the present writer should fail to effect as much as he
has undertaken, some other, more competent to the task, would
not fail to discern, and to make good use of, so obvious an occa
sion for winning a signal and easy triumph in a controversy of
the highest moment.
There are those who are now telling the world (in so many
words, as well as by plain implications) that the doctrine and
discipline which were promulgated in a crude form by the Apostles,
reached a mature state about the time of the council of Nice ; and
that it is in the writings of the great divines of that age, that we
are to look for the finished model of our religion. It is, as I
think, a most auspicious circumstance that those who entertain a
belief such as this, have done themselves the honour, and the
church at large the service, of making themselves so clearly
understood ; and that thus a multifarious controversy is reduced
within narrow limits, and is submitted to the rules of a plain his
torical inquiry. Only let the Oxford Tract writers adhere to this
profession of their faith, and we may hop© to see the controversy
reach its issue, at no distant period.
But then these writers wiU feel themselves compelled to dispose
of the critical subject of the ancient celibacy in some more definite
manner, than can be effected by the means of a few timid and
ambiguous aUusions to it; for it will not long be permitted to the
champions and admirers of ancient Christianity to evade a theme
which touches, at a hundred points, the general scheme of doctrines
and practices they are labouring to recommend. These divines
cannot but feel that the credit so generally given them for religious
integrity as ministers of the gospel, and for honourable ingenu
ousness as controvertists, imposes upon them the necessity of
frankly stating what their belief is on this cardinal point.

THE ARGUMENT. 135
Either the ancient ascetic celibacy was abstractedly good, and
its influence was holy and elevating ; or the reverse was true ;
or it was neither the one nor the other, and altogether indifferent ;
or it was partly beneficial, and partly pernicious. Something
definite must needs be said on the subject, and a choice must be
made among these suppositions, before we can be free either to
accept, or to reject, the nicene model of Christianity. As well
attempt to recommend Mahomet's scheme of religion, and yet say
nothing of his doctrine of paradise, as go about to restore ancient
Christianity, leaving in the shade — its celibate and its monkery.
The Oxford Tract writers have, no doubt, maturely considered
this untoward subject, and will in due time declare themselves
plainly concerning it ; nor does it appear how they can do other
wise than boldly take up the only position which their pledged
adherence to the nicene church leaves open to them, and toward
which indeed they have already opened the way. Meanwhile I
invite the reader's attention to a mass of proofs which, as I think,
must exclude every supposition but one, concerning the influence
of the notions in question, and the real quality of the religious and
ecclesiastical system to which they attached.
The actual influence of particular opinions or practices, is not
always found to be such as, at a first glance, we might have ex
pected : often it is the very reverse ; and when at length we
discover the error into which we had fallen, we are not unlikely
to admit, too hastfly, a favourable impression of that which we
perceive not to have produced the sort of bad consequences we
had attributed to it. This is a pitfall always to be kept in view.
Multitudes have relapsed into popery, and not a few have fallen
into socinianism, simply because, in becoming better acquainted
with the one or the other, their original and vague notions con
cerning it had not been realized.
With the hope then of precluding any such accident in the
present instance, and also in order to exhibit, as plainly as
possible, what I mean by the occult infiuence which an opinion
or practice may extend over the system it belongs to, I will
adduce what may seem an extreme example, and yet a pertinent
one. — Let it be supposed then that we have in view some religious
L 2

^2" STATEMENT OF
system of which the practice of infanticide is a part, not merely
as tolerated, but as authorized and encouraged, commended,
extofied and practised. Now none can imagine that such a
practice would be found to have taken no hold of a people's
manners and sentiments ; rather we should be inclined, without
due inquiry, to attribute a savage ferocity to a community dis
graced by so foul a stain. But herein we might find ourselves
altogether in error, and perhaps when actuaUy convinced of our
mistake, we might almost begin to ask if the practice itself were
really so abominable as we had been used to think it.
But a more cautious inquirer, adhering steadily to the im
moveable principles of morality, nor ever sceptical concerning the
constant elements of human nature, would proceed to look more
narrowly into the system, and beneath its surface, for what he
must at length discover — namely, the deep-working and univer
sally diffused poison of this horrid usage. How lofty soever, in
style and mien, such a people may seem, and whatever heroism
may have often connected itself with the atrocious practice, yet
the philosophical moralist, sure of his principles, will go on with
his analysis of the people's sentiments and condition, until he has
laid bare the ulcer that is at their heart.
And such an analysis would, in the end, make it certain, that
there was no single opinion, however apparently insulated, no
characteristic of the national temper, no element of the private
and domestic economy, actually exempt from the contamination
of this cancerous tumour. W^ithin this infanticide community
mothers might perhaps be seen exhibiting the highest intensity of
the parental affection, and might be found to-day submitting to
extreme privations for the sake of the very babe which, to-morrow,
they will coolly offer to the murderous knife of a fanatical priest,
There might seem to be no want of moral energy among such a
people ; and yet assuredly there would be a total want of genuine
virtue : and if their morals were vitiated and extravagant, of what
sort would be their religion ? Nothing better, we may be certain,
than a grim demonology — a worship, not of the author of the
human system, but of its destroyer.
Whenever a religious practice, plainly interfering with the
common principles of human nature, is not found to be such in

THE ARGUMENT. 137
its immediate influence as we might have supposed, it will be
because itself springs from some much deeper principle, touching
the human mind more profoundly, and therefore, in so far as it
has its origin more toward the centre, affecting every thing else
in the heart, temper, behaviour, and understanding. In such
a case then, the particular practice in question may either be
assumed as a general characteristic of the moral system of which
it is a part, or it may be employed more exactly, as a clue,
aiding us when we would make our way through the intricacies
of that system.
It is thus with the celibacy of the ancient church : far too
deeply did it touch the most potent impulses of human nature
to be in itself of small account. Whatever had the power so to
thwart and trample upon the animal and moral constitution, had
a power too, to disturb every thing else within the bosom or
the mind of man ; nor could it fail to exert this power. It were
idle to speak of one who goes about with iron spikes in his
shoes, or with a festering hook in his ribs, as if he were, in other
respects, just like his fellows ; or as if he could retain his hold of
the common principles of good sense, and of the gentle domestic
affections : — such a being in truth is not a man. The fakir may
smile and talk softly, but all bis notions and feelings are such as
are burned into the soul by the indwelling of a fiend. Whatever it
is, whether doctrine or social usage, that lords it over our physical
and moral constitution, will be sure to play the master among
things so much more fiimsy and pliable as are theological dogmas
and ecclesiastical constitutions. What! shall a man's heart be
grasped, and wrenched, and torn out of its place by a force which
yet will not, or cannot mould and twist the fleeting creations of
the brain ? This will never happen, or never if the laws of moral
dynamics are at all to be calculated upon. Craze a man in his
affections, and you need not set about to craze him in his under
standing ; for it is done already. Such a one sees every thing
in false proportions, misjudges all magnitudes, misplaces the major
and minor of every proposition, and has become a universal
sophist; not indeed by ill intention, or want of reason, but by the
cruel misfortune that has disjointed his moral symmetry.
This is felt by every sound-minded reader in looking into the

138

STATEMENT OF

ancient church writers : — ^it is not an error in one place, and an
inconclusive argument in another ; but it is generally a distorted
condition of the moral and religious nature : every thing is as if
it had been on the rack. Often one is perplexed in the endeavour
to trace to its true cause this derangement of notions, of which
nevertheless one is constantly and painfully conscious ; but on
such occasions it is seldom that the mystery is not cleared up by
a recurrence to the leading fact of the terrible violence that had
been done to human nature by the ascetic system. Here is the
fatal secret of the illusions, and the exaggerations, and the cor
ruptions, of ancient Christianity.
The instance I have just adduced by way of illustration,
namely, the practice of infanticide, I have admitted to be an
extreme one ; and it is so if we think of its direct criminality, as
compared with the vow of virginity. But in any other point of
view, it is by no means extreme ; and I think that those who are
the best acquainted with human nature, wfll be ready to admit
that the one practice indicates the presence of as great a power of
disturbance (to borrow a phrase) as does the other. In other
words that the practice of celibacy implies as profound a derange
ment of the moral system, as does the practice of infanticide : —
the single act was indeed more flagitious : but the motive
prompting it was not of a more sovereign kind, nor less likely to
shed its influence far and wide.
Now whatever recommendations of fervour or of heroism
might be found to attach to a community practising infanticide,
on pretext of religion, it is not conceivable that we should ever
consent to go to such a society to bcschooled, either in theology
or in morals, or that we should think it safe to borrow from so
tainted a source any order of sentiments ; for we should feel that,
whether or not the poison had always broken out on the surface,
every thing thence derived must, in fact, be liable to the gravest
suspicions. But the same caution ought not the less to be
regarded when it is proposed, as now, by the Oxford Tract
divines, to borrow largely from the plague-stricken nicene church.
What can be more unsafe than to listen submissively to those
ho themselves had undergone the moral violence, connected
with the celibate doctrine and practice — which practice had

w

THE ARGUMENT. 139
already become loaded with the most offensive abuses I If we
should not dare take lessons from teachers applauding and prac
tising infanticide, how is it that we can dare to listen to those
who applauded and practised a custom which, though not in the
same sense a crime, could not have become general, without
involving an equal, or even a greater distortion both of natural
sentiments and of theoretic principles ?
The real history of the ancient church (I do not mean so much
of this history as may meet the eye in modern works) plainly
shows, not only that the worst enormities, sometimes, and the
wildest extravagances, often, attached to the ascetic life, but also,
and this is a fact of more significance, that dogmas and modes
of devotional sentiment, fitting such excesses, were adopted, or
were fallen into, by even the wisest and best ofthe theologians of
the times. What violence then must be done to every known
principle of analogy in the moral world, if, after all, it is to be
believed that the nicene church had reached, in doctrine, in ritual,
in discipline, aud in devotional temper, just that palmy state,
bordering on absolute perfection, which should render it the
proper object of our veneration and imitation ! What may not be
true if this be true ?
But even if so incredible a supposition were admitted, we
should not have made our way through the difficulties of the
case ; and these are to be surmounted only by a procedure from
which, as I suppose, all but a very few would recoil with horror.
It is well to look these further difficulties in the face. — The
nicene church-system was one system, firmly compacted at once
by energies within, and by pressure from without : nothing hung
loose upon it ; nothing was out of harmony within it. We sadly
deceive ourselves if, carrying our modern notions up to those
ages, we think that the christian community in the fourth century
was like the modem religious mass — a heterogeneous aggregate,
owning submission to no central power, wrought upon from within,
and from without, by a thousand forces wholly independent one
of the other, giving the freest scope to individual impulses, and
therefore presenting many glaring instances of anomaly and
contrariety. The ancient church wore no such many-coloured
cloak ; and how much soever it might have been distracted

140 statement of
hy particular controversies, it was very nearly of one temper, as
to its moral ingredients. This assertion might receive curious
illustration by a collation of the style of men the most opposed
on points of theology. But it must suffice here to advert to the
fact, which wfll not be disputed, of the homogeneity of the
religious system, within the boundaries of the orthodox church,
to say no more. What then is the practical inference thence
resulting ? Plainly this, that, if we go a borrowing from this
nicene church, piece-meal, taking out of it what we may fancy,
and leaving behind that which in fact was woven with it, and
formed one texture, we shall come off miserably disappointed in
the result ; for what we have obtained is not in fact what we
were grasping at.
As well append an amputated limb to a living body, as attempt
to set certain detached portions of ancient Christianity agoing, in
combination with our modern notions and practices. What we
have adopted will putrefy, but it will not walk. Yielding our
selves to a fond veneration of antiquity, we may ape the sanc
timonious carriage of the nicene age, we may imitate, and
punctiliously enact, the sacramental superstitions, as got up in
the porphyry-columned basilics of Constantinople, Antioch, and
Rome ; we may talk in the big phrases of Chrysostom, Gregory,
and Ambrose, of the ' tremendous mysteries,' and may exhaust
all powers of language in setting forth the efficacy and dignity of
the sacerdotal functions : — we may strut and swefl, we may rave,
or be sullen, as we please ; but aU will not do : — our copy indeed
is perfect to a hair, but there is no life or motion in it. The
nicene church, with its pomps and awful rites, embraced a mys
tery, tremendous indeed — a motive and a doctrine which, after
trampling, in tyrannous mockery, upon the strongest impulses of
human nature, lent its superfluous power to whatever else might
seem to need animation or support.
Idle then is the industry of our modern restorers of antiquity,
who are copying the nicene church, but yet scruple (or scruple at
present) to adopt the master element of the system — the heart of
the body — the key-stone of the arch, the cement of the structure.
The romish copyists knew far better what they were about, and
their imitation of antiquity has stood on its feet, and spoken, and

THE argument. 141
gone about, and wrought its will, like a living body : the romish
representation of ancient Christianity is a daughter — too like her
mother to allow her filial relationship to be for a moment ques
tioned ; but what is now in course of finishing, within our pro
testant church, is nothing better than a wax model, which
although it startles us when we come upon it unprepared, chills
us when we touch it, and from which we presently turn away in
contempt. Marvellously indeed have those shown their ignorance of
human nature, who have allowed themselves to think of the
ancient ascetic celibacy, as if it were a separable adjunct of
ancient Christianity ; and strangely too have they overlooked the
entire evidence of history. The philosophy of morals apart,
how can we be justified in assuming those things to have been
loosely or accidentally conjoined, which, in fact, never existed
apart for so long a time as one year, or one day, and were never
sundered in any one church, and which never came to be parted
until the time when the apostolic principle of morals, which had
been so long superseded, was recovered and promulgated anew ?
Let the ' well- omened' enterprise of the Oxford Tract divines
(so far as at present developed) be crowned with all the success
they can desire, let the episcopal clergy generally (which God
forbid) yield themselves to the illusion, let the english church be
hoisted up to the high mark of nicene perfection, and, in order to
make the experiment as complete as possible, let it repel from
itself so much of the interference of the civil power as distin
guishes the english church under the Tudors, from the eastern
church under Constantine, or Theodosius ; all this effected, and
the first fiush of triumphant feeling subsided, and then every one
would become conscious of a want — a fault, which some would
not hesitate to name ; and there would be a general outcry for
the deficient element of ancient Christianity ; and a few months
would see the 'holy virginity' of the nicene age, freed indeed
from its grosser scandals, and sobered down a little by english
good sense, fairly set agoing among us, and crowds of both
sexes, high-wrought by this fresh and specious enthusiasm,
would profess themselves ' the espoused of the Lord.' That
such things should come about, even in this country, and this

142 statement OF
age, I cannot think in any degree improbable. — But are we
indeed prepared to hail them ?
Besides the vehement propensity of all things to reach their
deep affinities, there is a very obvious tendency in the super
stitious feeling and doctrine concerning the sacraments, to bring
about the restoration of the celibate. If certain imaginative
notions of sacredness and sanctity are but once lodged in many
minds, and especially in minds delicately sensitive, there comes
in at the same time, or it will soon develop itself, an instinctive
necessity for carrying them out in all directions ; and in fact,
until these morbid notions are so carried out, the conscience is
troubled, and the moral sentiments are kept on the rack, and
exposed to frequent and cruel shocks. There would not long
be wanting some tender and devout spirits, nor some of more
fanatical temper, who would denounce, as insufferable, the
desecration of 'holy baptism,' and of the 'holy eucharist,' by
the hands of a married priest. Many, and among these some of
the most exemplary members of the church, would declare that
their inmost nature revolted at the thought of receiving the
consecrated elements from ' polluted hands.' A married priest !
shall such a one touch that altar which archangels tremble even
to look upon ! This may not be : too long indeed has the church,
trampled on by profane protestantism, submitted to these
degradations. The time, however, is now come that she should
raise herself from the dust, nor ever again permit her ' present
liord' to be uplifted by any but hands washen in innocency, nor
the steps of her tremendous altar to be trodden by any but those
whose ' loins are girt about with truth.'
All this has actuaUy been seen and heard in the church, and it
wfll inevitably renew itself among ourselves, if only ancient
Christianity is to be revived, and if England, abandoned by God
for her sins, is to shut up the Scriptures, to frown upon the
Gospel, and to take up, in the stead of it, the heartless 'phflo
sophy' of the patristic folios.
The intimate connexion then of the celibate with all parts of
the ancient refigious system, presents itself as a subject of urgent
practical importance, at a time when the notions, rites and
doctrines of that system are recommended as embodying chris-

the argument. 143
tianity in its mature and most perfect form ; and when, in a word,
the nicene church is solemnly lifted up, as the standard by which
every thing ecclesiastical should be regulated.
This alleged connexion, fatal as it should be to the pretensions
of ancient Christianity, considered as a model- system, is not to
be exhibited in generalities merely ; but must carefully be traced
on several lines of inquiry. This inquiry I am now to pursue ;
and, with the hope of combining comprehensiveness and brevity,
with a sufficient degree of distinctness in the details, shall arrange
the evidences I have to adduce under five heads, and shall
consider the ancient religious celibacy, and the ascetic practices
therewith connected, as affecting —
I. The notions entertained of the Divine Nature, or the moral
attributes of God — and of —
II. The scheme of salvation —
III. The system of morals, in its principles, and its operation
on the church, and on society at large—
IV. The visible institutions of Christianity, and especially the
sacraments — and
V. The ecclesiastical polity ; and particularly the position,
influence, and temper of the clergy.
In order to anticipate any objection, bearing upon my general
argument, I must state the principle which I bind myself to
observe in citing the evidence of writers of different times,
embracing a period of four hundred years. — I assume then, that
the moment of the nicene council is the centre point of historical
inquiry concerning ancient Christianity. It is so, first, because,
by general acknowledgment, the church was at that time altogether
in a more settled condition than at any other period, whether
earlier or later. Secondly, because we are in possession of far
more ample materials, relating to that period, than are extant
belonging to any other, earlier or later, and therefore we may
with more certainty and satisfaction bring it under discussion ;
and thirdly, and especially, because this period has been explicitly
recognised in the present controversy, as that wherein was
embodied the pure ideal of doctrine and discipline, and which
many wish to consider as the model and standard of the english
episcopal church. Here then is our resting-place ; and in quoting

144 statement of the argument.
earlier authorities, it is only just so far as these preceding writers
may he fairiy taken as having laid the foundations of the nicene
church ; or, on the other hand, if later doctors are brought for
ward, it wfll be when they, as plainly, are seen to be completing
the building, and laying stone upon stone, after the original plan,
and in manifest conformity with the mind and purpose of their
predecessors. Thus, for example, if Origen, Irenseus, or the
apostolic bishops are produced, it will be so far as they were the
fathers of the nicene Christianity : or if I come down so low as to
the times of Gregory the Great, I shall adduce his evidence, not
as the father of popery, but as the child and scholar of the nicene
doctors. In fact, I think there are very few points of difference, distin
guishing the nicene church from either the earlier or the later
church, within the compass of two hundred years, on either side,
which modern controvertists, of any class, would much care to
insist upon, as of material consequence to their particular opinions.
It is well however to cast anchor at some one point, and mani
festly the early years of the fourth century afford the hardest
bottom for this purpose. The extant, and principal writers of
the period during which nicene Christianity may be considered as
having remained entire and unchanged, are barely so many as
twenty. The works, however, of several of these are voluminous,
and they altogether furnish an amount of information, concerning
the opinions and usages of the time, such as is hardly surpassed
in copiousness or exactness, by the historic materials of any but
the most recent times. At least it is enough to exclude the
apprehension of our being liable to fall into any material error, in
representing, either the notions, or the practices, or the spiritual
and moral characteristics of the period.

14;

CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE WITH
THE NOTIONS ENTERTAINED OF THE
DIVINE NATURE.

It is affirmed then, that the principle and the practices of
religious celibacy were at once the product, and the indication,
of certain notions concerning the Divine Nature, altogether un
like those conveyed in the Scriptures, and which took effect upon
every other element of ancient Christianity.
Few, I suppose, will deny that orthodoxy may consist, and has
often in fact consisted, not merely with many incidental errors,
but with very unworthy and delusive conceptions of the Divine
Nature. How many vehement asserters of athanasian doctrine
have appeared on the stage of the Church, whose notions of the
moral attributes of God, or of what (with reverence) may be called
the divine dispositions, were of no better quality than such as
may have been entertained by the visionaries of the Ganges, of
the Indus, of the Euphrates, or of the Nile ! This fact, instruc
tive as it is, cannot escape the notice of any intelhgent reader
of church history. An orthodoxy, logically precise, has served
with many an ardent spirit as the blind of a most corrupt theo
logy ; and the athanasian creed has been used as a mantle, wrap
ping round the illusive principles ofthe oriental theosophy. But
in such instances, although the concealed error may elude our
grasp whfle we are in search of it in its dogmatic form, it never
fails to betray itself, somewhere, among the characteristics of the
ethical or ecclesiastical system of the parties in question.
This is remarkably the case in the instance now before us ; and
after we have traced the celibate institution, very satisfactorily,

146 connexion of the ancient celibate
as we may think, to this, that, and the other external cause,
and have pursued it, historically, up to its several sources ; when
we come to institute a deeper inquiry regarding its inner cause, we
have hardly advanced a step before we meet unquestionable indi
cations of its import as a product of that gnostic sentiment
which, even where the gnostic heresies were the most strenuously
resisted, held possession of the religious mind, almost universally,
along the shores of the Mediterranean, and during a full seven
hundred years.
I here anticipate a brisk and resentful retort on the part of the
champions of ancient Christianity, who, at the mere mention of
any such 'calumnious insinuation,' wifl triumphantly appeal to
the illustrious catena patrum who, from age to age, stood as the
bulwarks of the faith, and gave their whole souls to the work of
repelling the gnostic heresiarchs. The well-merited eulogium of
these worthies, on this particular ground, I would be forward to
assent to, and to repeat. But when this justice has been ren
dered to the anti-gnostic fathers, from Irenseus to Theodoret, a
more exact attention to the facts, and a more calm consideration
of them, will lead us to admit the necessity of observing a dis
tinction, often overlooked, between that formal and zealous oppo
sition which men may make to certain definite errors, and the
latent and unconfessed entertainment they may give to the very
feelings out of which those errors have sprung. As there is what
may be called articulate truth, and inarticulate truth, and as mul
titudes, no doubt, have been saved by their participation of the
latter, who have either not known, or who might even have
resisted, the former ; so is it with error, and with its influence
over the mind. More than a few, in every age, have stood fore
most in the assault upon error, as defined and broadly pronounced
by heretics, who at the same time have been themselves, mani
festly, the victims of the false sentiment — the intimate illusion,
whence that errror has taken its rise. Thus, for example, in our
own times, has it not happened, and in some signal instances, that
the assailants of scepticism have afforded indications enough that
they are themselves suffering under that ague of the soul? I
consider it therefore neither as a calumnious imputation, nor as a
philosophical refinement, to affirm that the early church, while

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY.

147

meritoriously and successfully employed in repelling the protean
gnosticism by which, from the first, it was beleaguered, did itself
admit, and to a much greater extent than has often been supposed,
A Aee^ gnostic feeling, which made itself felt in every branch of
its doctrinal and ecclesiastical constitution.
Apart from an acquaintance with the history of that awful
mistress of the ancient world — the oriental theosophy which,
under a thousand changeful colours, held the religious mind in
thrall during a period of two thousand years — apart from this
history, we are neither qualified duly to estimate the divine ex
cellence of the christian system, nor to render full justice to the
early orthodox writers on account of the resistance they made to
this captivating illusion ; nor can we resolve the enigma of the
superstitions which, even while repelling gnosticism, the ancient
church admitted. In this last respect especially it is the know
ledge of gnosticism, not indeed as a heresy, but as a feeling, and
as the ' tyrant of the cavern '- — the lurking witchery of the human
spirit, that must afford us the clue we want in clearing a path
through the labyrinth of ancient Christianity. It is to this gnostic
feeling preoccupying all minds religiously disposed, that we must
trace most of those peculiarities of sentiment and practice which
make up the striking contrast between the apostolic, and the nicene
church. This oriental theosophic sentiment consisting in, and
producing a fatal misapprehension of the divine nature, or moral
attributes of God, its consequence was to give a totally wrong
direction to every thing in theology, or in worship, or in morals,
that might come within its reach.
Gnosticism, repelled by the ancient church, and at length, by
fair as well as foul means, finally extirpated as a visible heresy,
did not expire until after it had deposited myriads of its eggs
within the vitals ofthe church. Gnosticism surviving in principle,
and polytheism in ritual, make up together the bastard religion
of the middle ages, otherwise called popery. The protestant
churches have indignantly shaken off the grosser elements of this
superstition, that is to say, the polytheism of popery ; but they
have not, or not all, even to the present day, altogether dispelled
from their bosoms the more occult and refined element, namely —
the gnosticism of popery : and to speak the plain truth, it is

148 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
nothing else than this same element, this inveterate gnostic
feeling, that is now rising to the surface in the Oxford Tract
divinity. The identity of this occult element, working under so many
forms, and during the lapse of so many centuries, and struggUng
on from east to west, like a pestilence, born in the mud of the
Ganges, and spreading death to the shores of the Atlantic,
becomes manifest when we keep the eye fixed upon certain of
its constant characteristics. These therefore demand our closest
attention. We are much accustomed to think of the ancient gnosticism in a
trivial manner, and only as we find it grotesquely portrayed in
modern books ; where it appears as an unintelligible congeries of
puerile absurdities, or a mere jargon, saved from contempt only
by that daring impiety of its language which excites our resent
ment. Not such was it in fact; nor as such did it gather to
itself, and fascinate the intellectual masses of the ancient world ;
— these masses too, led on by minds as vigorous and as lofty as
any that have ever figured in philosophy. In forming our notion
of the system we must allow for the disadvantages we labour
under, first, as having to collect our materials entirely from
among the fragments which its triumphant opponents have chosen
to hand down for our inspection ; and secondly, as viewing the
whole in the light of a much better understood Christianity ; and
thirdly, which is no inconsiderable circumstance, as having our
selves undergone that severe training in the demonstrative and
physical sciences, which impels us to regard with cold contempt
whatever cannot make good its claims to respect on the ground
of direct evidence, or logical inference. But to the mind of
antiquity, the mere want of positive proof, far from being regarded
as a disparagement, constituted the pecufiar charm of a scheme of
philosophy. The best praise of a system of theosophy was, that
it soared far above the region of cold demonstration, and that it
opened a fair fiield of delicious speculation, exempt from the im
pertinent interference of dry dialectic methods of argument. The
ancient mind chose its religion, as a voluptuary chooses a mistress,
not for her probity, but her beauty to his eye ; and it desired, not
what none could gainsay, but what was too fair to be rudely

WITII THE NICENE THEOLOGY.

149

questioned. Gnosticism, all gratuitous as it was, and rich in a
gorgeous pneumatology, on this very account captivated the medi
tative, the excursive, and the pensive order of minds : because it
dared to unfold an upper world, which could be conversed with
only by a spiritual intuition, disdaining the trammels of reason.
Gnosticism, such as we find it westward of the Syrian deserts,
or the Euphrates, and such as it appeared from the apostolic age,
and the times of Philo, and four centuries onward, was at once
the effort of that instinct of the human mind which impels it to
penetrate the mysteries of the invisible world, from mere curiosity ;
and it was the struggle of the heart, as well as of the reason : it
was its agony under the pressure of those indefinite surmises that
spring from a contemplation of the actual condition of the human
system — its derangement, its anarchy, and its corruption. Painful
emotions of this sort seek repose in such notions of the Supreme
Being as compromise the moral, by means of a refinement
of the natural attributes. Gnosticism reaches its end, when it
has fashioned a deity allied to the imagination, not to the
conscience. Under many variations which, during the course of several
centuries, gave a new aspect to the system almost every year,
the same germinating impulses are always perceptible. But it is
to be observed, and the observation affords a clue to many of the
perplexities of the subject, that, although the first of these motives,
namely, that imaginative curiosity which gave birth to the rich
theories of gnosticism, seemed always to lead the way, and to be
mistress of the whole, it was in fact the second impulse, less
ostensible, but far more potent, namely, the agonizing desire to
resolve, or to dismiss the problem of moral and natural evil, as
disturbing the government of an Infinite Being ; it was this im
pulse which really controlled the apparently lawless speculations
that sprang from the first ; and in truth, the last and ripened
form of gnosticism — manicheism, was only the outbreak of that
force which, during centuries, had been inly heaving the mass.
The bold doctrine broached by Manes, of a personal, independent,
and eternal evil principle, waging an interminable war with the
good, was only a simplification of the system, brought out, at the
last, by the pressure which was then threatening its destruction.

^^^ CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
Gnosticism, less vehemently urged by the catholic church— the
politically powerful church, might long have continued, as at first,
a splendid speculation; but thus compelled to make a desperate,
effort, it became a malignant heresy, and as such, offered itself
the more fairly, as a victim, to its triumphant rival.
In the abstract gnosticism of Phflo, the brighter and purer ele
ment only appeared on the surface ; whfle in the gnosticism of
Manes and his successors, the darker and the more foul prevailed ;
but inasmuch as neither was at any time altogether wanting, so
both, while explicitly and earnestly condemned by the church,
nevertheless deeply affected its opinions, its moral sentiments, and
its practices. It is this unconfessed, and yet extensive and per
manent influence of gnosticism upon ancient Christianity,* that
resolves the enigmas of church history, and indeed affords a key
to the difficulties which, at the present moment, distract so many
minds. What then was the essence of this oriental theosophy, as dis
tinguished from the genuine theology that had been handed down,
through the inspired patriarchs, to the Jewish legislator, and from
him sent forward, in the hands of the Prophets, and finally given
to the world in its perfect form hy our Blessed Lord, and his Apo
stles ? This theosophy, scarcely less ancient than the patriarchal
piety, and, at all times, much more widely extended, was to this
effect — That the visible world, with its material elements jarring
one upon another, and its organized and animated orders perish
able, and corruptible, and inimical, and its intelligent races de
generate and wretched, is altogether unworthy of the supreme and
Infinite Power, or, as he was cafled — the Father unknown, who,
nevertheless, is the emanative source of minds, human and angelic,
or at least of the purer classes of minds. — That this material
world was in fact the work of inferior and imperfect beings (or of
one such) themselves removed hy many stages of filiation from
the Supreme Deity, and who exercised an ill-fated and precarious
empire over this troubled sphere, where man — unhappy man,
finds his present lot to be cast, who, nevertheless, if he steadily
* Matter (Histoire critique du Gnosticisme,) is very far from being satis
factory on this branch of his general subject, of the importance of which he
seems barely conscious.

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 151
pursue his better destiny, shall at length, and after long periods
of trial and purgation, and under the conduct of the Logos-
Redeemer, reascend to his source, and merge his being for ever
in the boundless ocean of light and life.
It was a side principle of the gnostic theosophy, a principle at
the first advanced for the purpose of opposing the christian church,
and abandoned only when concfliation became necessary, that
Jehovah, the god of the Jews, was not the Supreme Deity ; but
on the contrary, his foe, and the usurper of his power.
To this system Christianity opposed itself, not simply by
maintaining its orthodoxy ; but more specifically, first, hy vindi
cating the constitution of the visible world, whatever partial dis
orders it might seem to embrace, as the work of the Supreme
Wisdom and Goodness — wisely leaving speculative difficulties or
apparent inconsistencies unsolved ; secondly, by connecting itself
with the Jewish dispensation ; and here again, leaving untouched
whatever might offend captious minds in the jewLsh history or
poetry ; thirdly, by exhibiting the Supreme Being as standing
in an immediate and gracious relationship to man ; and as the
antagonist neither of matter, nor of the visible world, nor of what
is simply finite and corruptible, but as the enemy of that only
which is morally evil. This last was practically the chief point
of contrast between Christianity and gnosticism. The one system
spoke of God as hating nothing that he had made, and hating sin
only, which he had not made. Nothing therefore intervened
between God and man, nothing could intercept the full tide of
blessedness, flowing from the Creator toward the creature, nothing
but sin : sin removed, and sin renounced, and then the ineffable
communion between the Infinite and the finite was restored,
securing the glory of the former, and the felicity of the latter.
But in the other system, the antithesis of the Infinite Perfection
was — the finite and corruptible material world, of which one of
the mere accidents (and man's sad misfortune) was moral disorder,
or sin. The course therefore to he pursued by man, in extricating
himself from his luckless position, and in getting clear of its
accident — sin, was, that of lofty contemplation, and habitual
mental abstraction, so as to disengage himself, as far as possible,
from the humiliating conditions of animal life, and to facilitate.

152 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
and, in a sense, to anticipate, his relapse into the Infinite
Nature. Such were the two confronted religious systems. Need it be
asked which is the true, the divine, and which the illusory, the
false ? Who can now balance between the two ? The catholic
church opposed its substantial truths to these baseless and malig
nant speculations ; and triumphed : but alas, it fell in triumphing,
and while vigorously repelling the openly pronounced, and more
distinct forms of the gnostic delusion, it too soon, and at a very
early period, yielded itself to the undefined and the more seduc
tive gnostic principle, which made the conditions of animal life,
and the common alliances of man in the social system, the anti
theses of the divine perfections, and so to be escaped from, and
decried, by all who panted after the highest excellence. It was
this gnostic leaven, which, through the medium of some ardent
minds, gained at length a firm hold of the christian community,
and became the germinating cause of so much of the ascetic
institution as was not expiatory, as well as of many of those
superstitions which have continued to oppress christiapity, even
to the present time.
None, it is true, who continued in connexion with the catholic
church, or who were recognised by it as its members, allowed
themselves to speak of sin in gnostic language, or ever openly
renounced, or altogether overlooked, the characteristic christian
doctrine of holiness, as the end of the christian life ; but at
the same time there were exceedingly few who hesitated to
surrender themselves to what I have termed the gnostic feeling,
in relation to the vulgar conditions of man's present state ; and
while the feeble and flickering enthusiasm of gnosticism itself
was found to be avaifing only with a very smaU class, in carrying
them forward on the thorny path of abstraction and asceticism,
and while it left the majority to amuse themselves with the system
as a barren speculation, it was far otherwise with the christian
body, among whom there were at work motives far more ani
mating, and better defined, and more than sufficient for giving
practical efficacy to the very same principle of abstraction, and
which impelled multitudes to abandon their position in society,
untfl, in fact, the wilderness became peopled with solitaries, and

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 153
the Church was converted into a sort of theatre for the athletse 0£
the higher spiritual economy.
Gnosticism had its Avatar, its .iEon deliverer, its Christos, and
Logos, who, sent down to this lower sphere by the Unknown
Father, to oppose and expel the Demiurge creator, and god of
this world, and the Jehovah of the Jews, was to recall the pneu-
matici — the purer minds of the human family, to their original
place in the intellectual system. But gnosticism had no vicarious
Saviour, no Lamb of God taking away the sin of the world — no
propitiatory death on the cross : — its Christos did not suffer when
the man, Jesus, was crucified by Pilate. It had no such Saviour,
nor wanted one ; for it did not recognise sin and guilt as the real
obstacles in the way of man's felicity. Only let the human spirit
break away from the material thralls of the creator of this gross
system, and it must instantly be happy : matter, v\ri, being
dropped, sin, its accident, would fall with it.
The ancient church felt the infinite superiority of its own
system of belief ; and its constancy in maintaining its ground,
beleaguered as it was by errors so insidious and fascinating, may
well claim our admiration. But how insidious and how fascinating
are those errors that spring up in the human mind as the sub
stitutes for long lost sacred truths ! Moreover, to aim at, and to
reach in religion, something better, or something more exalted
and refined than that which God himself has granted to us, seems
to fiery and ambitious spirits, not merely innocent, but laudable.
Why may we not lift sanctity (at least for the few) to a higher
level than that of the cold avoidance of positive sin ? Why
may not man aspire to be holy after the fashion of seraphs ?
Alas I this loftier, or seraphic sanctity, is not sanctity ; but a
factitious pietism, involving the substitution of principles funda
mentally false, in the place of the motives of genuine virtue.
So it was that the unearthly holiness which the church, from an
early period, made the object of its fond ambition, was not chris
tian holiness, but mere gnostic abstraction from the innocent
conditions of animal life. Christianity teaches that a near
approach to the Father of spirits is to he sought for on the path
of that virtue which is opposed to vice. Gnosticism held out
the hope of such an approximation by mere disengagement from

154 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
matter and its corruptibifity. The ancient church never denied
the christian doctrine of sanctity ; but it assumed along with it,
and as a useful subsidiary principle, the gnostic doctrine :— hence
its asceticism, and especially its doctrine of the angelic excellence
of virginity.
When wfll the Church once for all convince itself of the great
truth, so amply confirmed by its own history, that to tamper, in
any way, with the first principles of religion, or to attempt to
exalt and refine them, is an endeavour not more impious than it
is fatal ? The endeavour to elevate and rectify Christianity, has
in fact proved to be of worse, or of more permanent iU con
sequence, than the endeavour to lower its requirements ; for the
latter attempt has involved only a relaxation of principles, while
the former has demanded a substitution of one principle for
another, and has therefore deranged every thing else.
Whenever we are considering the ancient christian asceticism,
it is indispensable that we should keep in view the difference
between what was purely abstractive, and what was penitential
or punitive, in its principles or practices. This distinction, if
not always clearly defined in the monastic writings, is always
easy to be observed when the sentiments of the ascetics are
analyzed. And it is further to be noted that, while in some
places, and at certain periods, the abstractive principle, prompting
to the withdrawment of the spiritual being from the conditions of
animal life, was chiefly thought of ; in other places, and at other
times, the self-tormenting, penance-doing doctrine took most
effect, and produced those macerations and inflictions by means
of which sin might be expiated, and the future reckoning ren
dered so much the less formidable. The fact is at least a curious
instance of coincidence (if it be nothing more) that the chief
centres of gnosticism, were also the localities where the abstractive
species of asceticism made itself prominent ; while in the west,
where gnosticism, until a late period, was only an imported
doctrine, the penitential, or rather expiatory asceticism, pre
vailed over the abstractive. Of this alleged fact it would be easy,
if pertinent to our present argument, to adduce many striking
illustrations. Now, keeping in mind the above stated broad distinction, I

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 155
presume it will be universally admitted among protestants, that
the existence, at any time, or in any community, of penitential
and expiatory ascetic practices, affords a sufficient and unques
tionable proof of a corresponding compromise of that first prin
ciple of Christianity — the full and free pardon of sin, through the
expiatory and vicarious sufferings of Him who was ' made a sin-
offering for us.' Under whatever subterfuges he may attempt to
hide his error, the man who labours to expiate his own sin by
self-infiicted pains of the body, has lost his hold of the Gospel of
the grace of God : he may be very devout, and very fervent : but
the gospel he has framed to himself, is ' another gospel,' and in
fact is no gospel — it is not glad tidings, but sad tidings.
Then in adherence to the very same criterion of truth, we at
once say, that the existence, and the general prevalence, in any
church, of the principles and practices of abstractive asceticism,
and especially of the doctrine concerning the angelic excellence of
virginity, ought to be held as sufficient proof of a corresponding
compromise of the genuine christian notion of the divine nature,
in its moral and spiritual attributes, and plainly indicates the
substitution of the gnostic idea of a deity eternally at war with
matter, and abhorring the conditions, and resenting the humilia
tions of animal life, in the place of the scripture doctrine con
cerning the divine holiness, and hatred of sin.
If then the serious imputation now thrown upon the ancient
church of having, whfle steadfast in its orthodoxy, admitted the
germinating principle of the gnostic theosophy, and of having,
so far, compromised the glory of christian theology — if this
imputation were repelled, and if proof in support of it were
demanded, nothing more need be done in justification of such an
impeachment, than merely to refer to the unquestioned fact, that
from the first, and thence onward through the track of centuries,
it adopted, and extensively acted upon, the gnostic principle —
That the highest order of sanctity, or in truth the only genuine
and perfect sanctity, attainable on earth, is in the possession of
those who withdraw themselves, as far as possible, from the con
ditions of animal life, and especially, who renounce, in their
own persons, the sexual constitution. Religious celibacy, such
as we find it in the ancient church, was not an expiatory sacrifice.

156 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
it was not a penance ; but an act of abstraction, or an abduction
of the incarcerated soul from the ilXi), the dregs and stuff of the
lower world, by means of which separation it placed itself just so
much the nearer to God, as it was the more remote from the
natural life.
This is the doctrine of gnosticism, of its parent sooffeeism, of
itsgrand-parentbuddhism,andof the ascetic institute of the ancient
church. Almost in the very language, often in the very language
of the gnostic teachers, and even whfle formally condemning the
system as an anti-christian heresy, do the christian writers, and
especially those of the eastern and alexandrian churches, recom
mend virginity, and speak of it as the only near approximation
which man can make to the Deity, and as a forestafllng of the
soul's emancipation front the slavery and degradation of its con
nexion with matter, and with animal life. Whence came the
notion universaUy prevalent in the church, and repeated by a
thousand tongues, that the virgins of Christ, male and female,
constituted a spiritual aristocracy, or a quire of terrestrial angels,
and who, as such, were holy by emphasis, holy as a class, and
waiting only the kind hand of death, to lift them up to the throne
of God ? All this, in its various colours of extravagance, came
not from the Apostles, nor is it to be traced to the Scriptures : —
it is nothing but sheer gnosticism, and it means nothing less than
the removing ' the Father' revealed to men ' by the Son,' and the
putting in his place the Trarrjp dyvwaroc, a being approached only
by the few — the ¦KvevjjiaTiKoi, who had withdrawn themselves from
the laws of the lower world, and had made common cause with
him as the enemy of the Demiurge Creator.
But can it be imagined that a compromise o£ first principles
so fatal as this, could come to its end simply in originating, and
in keeping alive the institute of celibacy ? Assuredly not ; and
it is nothing less than what we are compelled to look for, when
we find that the same gnostic feeling and theosophy, which indi
cated its presence, and displayed its power, in the celibate insti
tution, took effect also upon every other element and usage of
ancient Christianity. Of this we shall discover evidence enough
in the after stages of our inquiry.
I do not however wish to stop short where I fairly might, at

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 157
this mere reference to the ancient abstractive asceticism, as a
sufficient proof of the prevalence of the gnostic theosophy and
sentiment in the ancient church ; but will adduce a few passages,
which, although they can by no means convey the irresistible
impression made upon an unprejudiced mind by the general
tenor of the ancient church divinity, may yet serve as sufficient
samples of this sort of compromised Christianity.
Who is to be accounted orthodox, if Athanasius be not so?
nor orthodox only, but truly good and great ; and by his wisdom
and courage, more worthy, if we may accept the arbitration of
Gibbon, to have sat on the throne of the Csesars, than either of
his contemporary imperial enemies. And yet this great Athana
sius was himself not more exempt than the craziest fanatic of his
times, from that ascetic notion of sanctity, which sprang from the
gnostic notion of the divine nature. The follies of an inferior
mind may, in any case, be imputed, if we please, to the individual ;
but those of eminently powerful minds must rather be thrown
back upon the age, and may safely be assumed as its charac
teristics. The vigorous and straightforward understanding of
this unbending champion of the faith, could hardly have failed to
break through the illusions of the times, had those illusions
been of an incidental kind ; but they had arisen steadily and
slowly from deep-seated false theological principles; they had
pervaded the christian community, from the east to the west ; they
had acquired, by long and undisturbed domination, an authority
such as none (or very few) dared to call in question ; so that the
most devout and energetic minds made it their glory to promote,
and would have thought it a sacrilege to examine, the venerable
errors. W^illingly should we give so estimable a man the benefit
of any doubt that may be thought to attach to certain tracts,
usually comprehended in his works ; but little or nothing would
be gained for his reputation by this scrupulosity, inasmuch as
those of his writings the genuineness of which has never been
questioned, contain sentiments fully equivalent to what may be
found in those which, on this ground, we might hesitate to cite.
The apology addressed to Constantius may be appealed to
confidently, as genuine ; and in this piece Athanasius uses a
style, when adverting to the subject of religious virginity, which

158

CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE

bears out any thing elsewhere occurring in the works imputed to
him. The expressions applied to our Lord in this Tract are far
too much in the gnostic style, and startle the ear by their resem
blance to the language of the gnostic leaders in speaking of their
' Logos-redeemer.' ' The Son of God,' says Athanasius,* ' who
was made man for us, having abofished death, and liberated our
race from the bondage of corruption, hath, besides his other gifts,
granted to us to have upon earth an image of the sanctity of
angels, namely, virginity. The maids possessing this virtue, and
whom the church catholic is wont to call the brides of Christ, are
admired, even by the gentfles, as being the temple of the Logos,
b>g vaov o'vaaq tov \6yov. Nowhere, truly, except among
us christians, is this holy and heavenly profession fuUy borne
out or perfected ; so that we may appeal to this very fact as a
convincing proof that it is among us that true religion is to be
found.' And thus, in the undoubted tract.of this father, on the Incar
nation, we meet the very same prominent doctrine, spoken of
as a characteristic of the christian system, and even including
the gnostic phrase, applied to virginity, that it was an excellence
obeying a rule ' above law.' ' Who is there, but our Lord and
Saviour Christ, that has not deemed this virtue (of virginity) to
be utterly impracticable (or unattainable) among men ; and yet
he has so shown his divine power, as to impel youths, as yet
under age, to profess it, a virtue beyond lawP'f We cannot
therefore do Athanasius much wrong in attributing to him senti
ments which, even if they did not actually flow from his pen,
are entirely in accordance with his opinions, as elsewhere professed.
And yet it does not appear that the tract on virginity, or the
ascetic life, is, on any sufficient grounds, assumed not to be
genuine. Let it however be taken only as a sample ofthe temper
and style of the times ; — just as we say of the Athanasian creed,
that, whether it be the composition of this champion of orthodoxy,
or not, it truly expresses his known belief, and that of the church
of his times. If the individual reputation of Athanasius were the
point now in question, then the genuineness of a particular tract,
* Tom. i. p. 698. f Tom. i. p. 105.

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY, 159
attributed to him, would be a point essential to our argument;
but not so when it is the character of the age, rather than of the
man, which we are considering.
Now, looking at the tract I have mentioned, as a whole, and
comparing it broadly with the apostolic writings, one cannot but
strongly feel that the writer's notions of christian sanctity, and
those of the Apostles, were almost totafly dissimilar ; but then
these notions differ just in the same way as the gnostic idea of a
deity abhorring the conditions of animal life, and at war with
the visible world, differs from the christian idea of the true God,
the Creator of the world, and hating nothing but sin. I might
stop to notice the utterly unapostolic style in which the author,
in this treatise, commends the virtue of fasting. 'What doth
Christ require of thee, but only a pure heart, and a body unsoiled,
and brought down with fasting ? ' How much better were it for us
to fall back from a Christianity, such as this, upon the Jewish
Prophets, one of whom gives us a far more christian-like, as well
as a more rational reply to a similar question ? ' What doth the
Lord thy God require of thee, but — to do justice, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with thy God ?' Can we be at any loss in
choosing between two sj'stems of morality, as thus summarily
expressed ? What would not fasting do ? — every thing, says Atha
nasius, and ' place man near to the throne of God.' Yes, to
the ¦ god unknown' of gnosticism ; but not to the God revealed
in the Scriptures. Athanasius, and the church of his time, did
not altogether overlook, much less did they deny, what was sub
stantial in morals ; but they associated with these weighty mat
ters, that factitious sanctity which, whenever it is so associated,
has not failed to draw to itself the attention of ordinary minds,
and, in the end, to reduce its companion to a subordinate, and
almost forgotten place. Tell the mass of men, as solemnly as
we please, that they must be ' holy in life and heart,' and also
— scrupulous in their external purifications, and we shall soon
find them absorbed in the detafls of this scrupulosity, whfle they
make light of justice, truth, mercy, and purity, as well as of
piety. It would be of no avafl therefore, in relation to our pre
sent argument, to cite, from the same tract, the many excellent
moral precepts which it embodies ; — the question is — With what

160 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
are these precepts associated, and what are those notions con-
cerning the divine nature, which must have been suggested by
the general tenor of the writer's exhortations ?
^ Now let it for a moment be imagined, that some leading reli
gious writer, of the present day, and of high reputation for in-
telligence and personal sanctity, as weU as vigour of character,
addresses a letter of religious advice and encouragement, to a
devout christian lady of his acquaintance, and that, among other
advices, exceUent as they may be, and in one and the same tone
of serious intentness, this writer presumes to enter her chamber,
in the capacity of her spiritual director, and when there, gives
her solemn instructions, as to the cautions she should use in
performing her ablutions, and the reserves she should adhere to
in changing her finen !— No such insufferable impertinence could
possibly be fallen into by any one gifted with a particle of com
mon sense, in these days. Nowhere, scarcely in the romish
communion, could we find a spirit so enthralled by superstition,
as to be led to make the ceremonials of the foot-bath an awful
matter of piety, or to imagine that He who indignantly contemned
the scrupulous ablutions of the pharisee, was to be either pro
pitiated, or offended, by a lady's using, or not using, both her
hands in washing her face !*
How is it then, that, at a time when the Church had gathered to
itself afl the intelligence and learning of the age, a venerable
archbishop, and a man of strong understanding and eminent
quality, should think it a proper part of his duty, in addressing
the christian ladies of his charge, to descend to topics so degrad
ing, nay, so offensive ? How is it that, in connexion with the
changing of an inner vestment, such a man could bring himself
to adduce the most solemn motives of piety ? No other answer
can be given to so perplexing a question but this — that, in the
age of the holy Athanasius, the Church universal had fallen into
notions of the divine nature far more nearly allied to gnosticism
than to apostolic Christianity ; and in fact, that, while the
gnostic heresy was denounced by the lips, the gnostic theosophy
* Athan. tom. i. p. 1050. As in other similar instances, Cave would gladly
relieve the reputation of Athanasius from the authorship of this treatise.
Hist. Lit. p. 123.

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 161
had sunk into the heart. With our Lord's pointed reprobation of
pharisaic formalism full before their eyes, these fathers of the
Church nevertheless strenuously taught that christian piety, of the
higher sort, mainly turned upon, or at least could not dispense
with, bodily purifications, and external observances.
A contrast has been drawn bj' several modern protestant
writers, between the Apostles, and the early fathers, and the
difference such a comparison holds out, is indeed striking. There
is however another comparison which I do not remember to have
seen formally instituted, and which offers points of diversity stfll
more marked, as well as highly instructive. What I mean is the
vast inferiority of the christian divines of the first five centuries,
compared, as teachers of morals, with the Jewish Prophets of five
hundred years, reckoning from David onward. A few words may
suffice for setting forth this very significant parallel. — The mosaic
law — a national and temporary institute, and intended to seclude
the Jewish people from the nations around them, comprised various
observances of personal, ceremonial sanctity, well called ' carnal
ordinances.' But the christian law, intended for all nations, and
designed for perpetuity, drops every such ritual scrupulosity, and
not merely drops the observances, but pointedly condemns any
regard to them among christians. The servile desire to judaize
Christianity, is warmly reprobated, as implying nothing less than
a renunciation of the Gospel. And yet, while such are the charac
teristics of the two systems, respectively, what are the actual
characteristics of the teaching of those who stood forward as the
expounders of the one, and of the other, in the ages following the
two institutions? — most remarkable is the contrasted style of the
Jewish Prophets, and of the christian doctors, in this respect ! and
how irresistible is the confirmation it affords of our faith in the
inspiration of the Jewish Scriptures I
Every intelligent reader of the Bible must have noticed the
general fact, that the writers of the Old Testament, impelled by
an unconscious onward tendency toward a brighter and purer, as
well as a more expansive system than the mosaic, lay very little
stress upon the more servile observances of the national lavir ;
and, on the contrary, insist, with a rational and evangelic ardour,
upon the great principles and the unchanging requirements of

162 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
justice, mercy, temperance, as wefl as upon the development of
the more intimate principles of the spiritual fife. What is the
book of Psalms? is it a manual of monkery? What are the
Prophets ? are they the zealous sticklers for ablutions ; and do
they chafe and fret on points of the ascetic ritual? Are David
and the Prophets, as if by the impulse of an involuntary gravi
tation, working themselves down from the greater to the less, in
matters of morality, and descending from the substance to the
form, from the spiritual to the ritual ? Nay indeed, such are not
the characteristics of the inspired writers of the Old Testament ;
who are manifestly imbued with the spirit, and the power, with
the truth, the reason, of the Apostles, although they did not enjoy
the same light.
But how is it with the early, and with the very best expounders
of the christian code — a code (as found in the New Testament) of
truth and reality, opposed to lifeless ceremony and abject super
stition ? The very characteristics which we have denied to the
Jewish inspired writers, are what present themselves on every
page of the early christian doctors. It is, strange to say, the
expounders of Christianity — the teachers of the law of liberty, who
are ever passing off from what is momentous, to what is trivial in
morality, and who seem, on all occasions, quite as solicitous
about the forms, as they are about the substance of piety ; and
who rarely if ever fail to mix, along with solid instructions, bear
ing upon christian conduct, some repulsive ingredients of a grovel
ling superstition ! I would fain ask those who are the best qualified
to answer the question — whether it be not so ? Is it not, in a
certain sense, true, that if we were to expunge from the fathers
the mere phraseology of the Gospel, and were to insert these same
phrases in the Old Testament scriptures, then every thing would
seem to be in its place ; as in a system chronologically developing
itself ? That is to say, the fathers might then appear the fit expoun
ders of the mosaic carnal institute ; whfle the Prophets, christian
ized in their language merely, might be accepted as the genuine
successors of the Apostles. Such an adjustment would seem to
give the harmony of regular progression, and of continuity to the
series of sacred literature, as it flows forward through fifteen
centuries. On this ground I should be inclined to urge an op-

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 163
ponent to confess that the very best of the writers of the nicene
age, say Chrysostom, Augustine, Basfl, Ambrose, Jerome, and the
Gregorys, fall far behind the Jewish Prophets, as to the notions
they convey of the benignity and the purity of the divine nature ;
and in the breadth of their moral systems, and in the respective
importance attached by them to the forms, and to the substance
of devotion, as well as in the warmth, the expansion, the sublimity,
and the energy of the religious sentiment by which they seem
personaUy to have been animated. In a word, this must, I think,
be acknowledged, that the writers of the ancient dispensation were
such as those should be, who were looking onward toward the
bright day of gospel splendour ; while the early christian doctors
were just such as one might well expect to find those who were
looking toward that deep night of superstition which covered
Europe during the middle ages. The dawn is seen to be gleaming
upon the foreheads of the one class of writers; while a sullen
gloom overshadows the brows of the other.
Every feeling of rational piety would be outraged were those
not infrequent passages to be adduced in which the great divines
of the fourth century, while labouring to set virginity ' above all
praise,' endeavour to mix up the notions it involves, with the
ineffable relationships of the Trinity, and perhaps, in opposition to
the gnostic notion of female ffions, or divinities in pairs, attribute
an accident of humanity to God himself. Much of this sort that
meets the eye, in the fathers, must be left where it lies^ — and may
it never find a translator ! But let those who would be warned
of the danger of running into frightful impieties when the reins
are given to fanatical impulses, open Gregory Nyssen, llepl Jlap-
Oevlas, and look up and down, and especially at the second chap
ter, b.eginning ctuvc'o-ews yap iifily. If we shudder, as we must, at
the presumption of the gnostics, while they are describing the
emanation of the pairs of aeons, male and female, from the Su
preme Deity, can we regard, without indignant reprobation, the
shameless audacity of a christian writer, and a bishop, who dares
to speak as Gregory Nyssen does of the relationship of the Eternal
Father to the Eternal Son ? If this be not gnostic theosophy, it
is something worse ; and assuredly it is not christian theology.
Better renounce Christianity, with the gnostics, than thus insult

164 CONNEXION OF-THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
its most sacred truths, with Gregory Nyssen. In order to secure
for the celibate afl possible patronage, and the highest authority,
this writer, designating our Lord by a phrase of gnostic origin, as
r>iv Trrtyrjy TfJQ d(j>dap<Tlae, insists upon the fact of his entering the
world in a manner implying a tacit disparagement of marriage ;
and in another place* he does not scruple to adopt a foolish, but
favourite tradition concerning the Virgin Mary, the import of
which is to secure her suffrage in support of the practice of vow
ing virginity in very childhood, a practice cruel in itself, and the
occasion of the worst abuses of the monkish system. Joseph, as
we are assured by the authors and retailers of this legend, was
pitched upon as a worthy man, who would consent to take charge,
for life, of the young virgin (Mary) in the ostensible relationship
of her husband, but really as the guardian of her innocence.
And it is remarkable as an instance of theological infatuation, even
with the soundest minds, that the absurd story which Gregory
Nyssen introduces, with some apology, as apocryphal, Augustine
a few years later, coolly alludes to as if it were an authenticated
fact ; and, in his customary mode of attenuated reasoning, labours
to infer as much from the words of scripture. ' It is clear,' says
he.-f- 'that Mary had previously (i. e. before the visit of the angel)
devoted herself to God, in inviolable chastity ; and that she had
been espoused to Joseph on this very condition ; desponsata viro
justo, non violenter ablaturo, sed potius contra violentos custodi-
turo, quod ilia jam voverat.' And all thisvras to be affirmed and
beUeved in order that, as he says, Mary might ' furnish an ex
ample to holy nuns in all time to come !'
But to return for a moment to Gregory Nyssen, I wifl refer to
the fifth chapter of the tract above mentioned, as furnishing an
example of that sort of gnosticized Christianity which was felt to
be needed in giving support to the practices and sentiments
universaUy adopted by the Church. The contrast, on this point,
between apostofic and ancient Christianity is striking. Peter
affirms that, ' by the promises of scripture we are made partakers
of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the
worid iv Eiriflw/xi'?' — a term which, in its canonical sense, implies
* Oration on Christmas day. t De Sancta Virginitate.

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 165
always — sin ; not simple affection. ^ But the writer now before
us declares, that the only way of approach to the Deity, is on the
path of abstraction from the affections of humanity, as connected
with our animal and social state ; and that the institute of vir
ginity has this very end in view, that we may the more effectually
withdraw ourselves from the entanglement of our mundane exist
ence. Now all this is sheer gnosticism. The Gospel teaches
men ' to deny ungodliness and worldly lust ;' gnosticism taught,
or would fain have taught its followers, to deny and to resent
those humiliating conditions which the malignant or unwise Demi
urge — the creator of this world, had imposed upon the human
race ; and thus, in substance, and often with a very near resem
blance of language, speak the ancient promoters of asceticism.
If the style of Gregory Nyssen, on subjects of this class, be
compared with that of mahometan dervishes, orof persian sooffees,
or of the grecian stoics, or pythagoreans, or platonists, or with
that of the gnostics of his own times, it does not appear that
any solid advantage can equitably be claimed for him. Call
Nyssen a christian father if you please, and Epictetus a heathen
phflosopher, and let the Church pay her homage to the former on
the 9th of March, or on any other day, and lei; her reprobate the
latter every day of the year ; meantime, this I am sure of, that I
could take many entire pages from both," and placing them, in
their naked merits, before an acute and intelligent christian
reader, desiring him, from internal evidence alone, to endorse
each quotation with the words Christian or Heathen, and he
would as often interchange these designations, as apply them
truly. And I think, moreover, that no candid mind would refuse
to acknowledge that the praise of good sense, simplicity, and
consistency, must decisively be awarded to the dark pagan.
' In order that we may, with a clear eye, gaze upon the light
of the intellectual universe,' says Nyssen in the tract before re
ferred to, ' we must disengage ourselves from every mundane affec
tion, and lay aside the feculence of the corporeal condition.'
Thus have talked mystics o/ every sect, and in all ages, and
while dreaming about the ' divine nature,' have totally lost sight
of genuine piety and virtue. The mysticism of the fathers is
distinguished from that of others, by a peculiar slang, which,

166 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
unconsciously, they caught from the gnostic teachers, their con
temporaries. There can hardly be a more gross illusion than that of suppos
ing that some few christian phrases, such as — ' our Saviour
Christ,' or, ' through the grace of the Son of God,' really avail
to christianize a page, a chapter, or a treatise, which, these naked
phrases apart, we should never have surmised to have come
from christian lips. Nor are religious writings to be christianized
by the formal insertion, here and there, of a creed, nor by the
inlaying of texts of Scripture. A christian writing is a composi
tion which breathes the spirit, and which is marked throughout by
the peculiar principles of the New Testament. Now, judged by
this rule, I think several of the most noted of the fathers would
be cashiered of their usurped honours, and set down some way
below the level of the better heathen writers. I fear this would
he the fate of both the Gregorys — I mean Nyssen, just quoted,
and the eloquent Nazianzen.
For propagating their opinions more widely and readily, the
gnostic teachers had recourse to the charms of verse : to sup
plant them on this ground, several of the fathers struck their
lyres ; and among these Ephraim, Synesius, and Nazianzen ; but
of what quality was the antidote they provided 1 Let us take
some samples — Synesius by and by, Nazianzen at present. It
seems to have been the belief of these writers, that to make the
nearest possible approach to gnostic doctrine and language, while
orthodoxy was saved, afforded the surest means of excluding the
specious heresy. A mistaken notion surely ; but it is thus that,
while their opponents were ranting about the vileness of the
body, and the sublimity of the endeavour to break away from its
humfliations, a christian bishop could follow on the same path,
and say — * Tdfioe p-ev %(7Tiv evvoixoQ aapKhiv Ztaic,
'H TrapOeveia B' sKJiains tov atojxaTOQ.
Where did Nazianzen learn any such doctrine as this ? We can
only reply — Where he learned such as the following, and neither
the one nor the other from the inspired writings.
• Carmina lambica.

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 107
' Happy the course of those — the unmarried blessed, who (in
this world) having shaken off the flesh, are nearer to the divine
purity.' What teaching more delusive in its tendency, than the telling
a company of persons that, because unmarried, they were ' near
to God.' Gnostics taught nothing more pernicious ; nor any
thing practically unlike it. They, or some of them, discouraged
marriage, not merely because it involved distractions incompa
tible with the contemplative discipline ; nor merely because it was
an additional tie, connecting the soul with the body ; but because
it was the means of carrying on that process of ' linking spirits
to flesh,' which the Demiurge had set agoing, despite of the Su
preme Deity, and which the Supreme Deity was labouring to
bring to an end. Now such notions being afloat, how does a
christian teacher seek to withstand them ? By addressing ' a
spouse of Christ' in language such as that of the exhortation,
wpoc irapQivovQ,* not merely abounding with the very cant of
gnosticism, about the agency of matter, the commixture of na
tures, the harmony of spirits with the Supreme Spirit ; but
presenting, in a distinct form, the gnostic doctrine that the
Christos, the Logos, had descended into this world to abrogate
the original sexual constitution, and to institute a more spi
ritual economy. Let the studious reader look to the whole, as it
stands ; and if he thinks that a florid writer's real opinions ought
not to be inferred from his poetic effusions, he may compare,
with the composition here mentioned, the following passage
from our author's thirty-first oration, which offers the same gnos
tic jargon, and the same gnostic principles, mixed up indeed
with a larger proportion of christian phrases. — ' Let her who is
under the yoke (of matrimony) be in part Christ's ; but the virgin,
Christ's wholly. Let not the one indeed be altogether bound to
the world ; but the other turn from the world altogether. Let
that which is partial in the married be entire with the virgin. Thou
hast chosen the angelic life, and hast ranged thyself with those
who are unyoked (the angels) be not thou borne downward
• Tom. ii. p. 299.
N 2

168

CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE

toward the flesh, be not thou home downward tie iXriv, be not
thou, though otherwise unmarried, wedded rrj vXri.' This is the
very style of the alexandrian gnostics ; and on the ground of
this same notion of the wedding of some souls to matter — a humi
liation from which others were exempt, Valentinian distributed
human spirits into the three classes, of the spiritual, the material,
and the physical. In truth, many passages of gnostic teaching,
reported by Origen, Clement of Alexandria, and Irenasus, want
but a little revision to make them altogether of a piece with the
rhapsodies of christian divines, in recommending the ascetic life.
' How angelic is it to lead a life not merely not fleshy, but far
raised above the larvs of nature herself !' Looking at language
such as this, by itself, one must rather imagine it to have come
from the lips of the enthusiasts of the school of Simon Magus,
than from those of a well-informed teacher of Christianity. If
the people at large are taught that the highest perfection attain
able by man in the present state consists in, and is to be pursued
by the means of, a divorce of the heaven-born soul from matter,
whatever they may at other times be told to the contrary, they
will inevitably form a notion of the divine purity, as being the
antithesis rather of corporeity than of sin ; and this notion, far
more agreeable as it is to the unrenewed mind than the other,
although it be more abstruse, will in fact give law to the whole of
the religious system of which it is an element. The very allu
sion contained in the epithet applied by the writer now before us
to God, whom he calls ' the only bridegroom of pure souls,'* con
joined with the doctrine that absolute purity is to be attained only
by those who renounce marriage, could not but have the effect
of diverting the minds of ordinary christians from a genuine and
spiritual conception of the divine nature. This substituted notion
is the very egg of gnosticism, and it has made itself the parent
of all superstition.
Better doctrine than this is met with in a much inferior writer,
and one who was himself superstitious enough in his way, I mean
Cyril of Jerusalem, who, wepl o-w'/iaroc, keeps clear of extravagance
* Twentieth Oration.

¦With the nicene theology. 169
on a subject where very few of his contemporaries could observe
the bounds of moderation. It must also be admitted that the
great man to whose praises Gregory devotes the above cited ora
tion, although the principal nJover and patron of the ascetic life,
yet abstains from many of the reprehensible sentiments which
abound in the writings of the nicene age. Basil, far surpassing
his brother Nyssen and his friend Nazianzen, in substantial
qualities, as well of the intellect as of the heart, may properly
he adduced as affording the most impressive example that can be
imagined of the fatal tendency of the theology of the age in
perverting minds even of a high order. Of Basil's superiority to
most of his contemporaries — the superiority of sound sense, and
right christian feeling, we might well enough adduce, as instances,
those frequent passages in which his papistical editors feel it
necessary to attach a caute legendum to a paragraph — that is to
say, to places where the writer is seen to be rising above the
superstitions of his times. Such an instance we find in the
Homily on the Incarnation, where Basil, touching the topic
that had been so poorly handled by Nyssen, and that was to be
so abused by Augustine, treats, as of little practical importance,
the very point which they and others laboured to establish as of
ineffable moment and solemnity. Nevertheless, and amidst the
frequent outbursts of a better reason and of a better faith, this
great and devout man yields himself, like others, to that same
gnostic notion of the divine character of which the ascetic doc
trine, and, particularly, the institute of celibacy, were the proper
expressions. On what warrant of Scripture does Basil dare to
affirm that virginity is ' that which makes man resemble the incor
ruptible God ?' Neither our Lord, nor the Apostles, utter a word
that gives even a colour to an anthropomorphous sentiment of
this kind. The doctrine is, in fact, pure gnosticism : and the
inevitable practical effect of it is, to impel the christian , to
pursue an ideal, or platonio, instead of a genuine and spiritual
species of sanctity. I can suppose nothing less than that,
while Basil and his contemporaries were treating subjects of
this class, the being they were thinking of was not the true
God of the Scriptures, but the incorporeal First Mind of the
eastern theosophy.

170 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE
Let US then listen a moment to the bishop of Caesarea, and say,
impartially, whether his style resembles most that of Paul, Peter,
John ; or that of Saturninus, Basilides, Valentinian. It is not a
few sentences, taken apart, that can convey a just impression of
the writer's mind and feeling. I indulge the hope therefore that
diligent and conscientious students will read for themselves the
entire tract I am now referring to, De Vera Virginitate,* and
satisfy themselves on the question, which has become a very
important one. Whether the nicene church was, or was not fatally
affected by the oriental poison : I would even stake the present
argument upon an examination of this very tract.
' A great (virtue) truly is virginity, which, to say all in a word,
renders man like to the incorruptible God. And this (virginity)
is not a something that goes forth (springs) from the corporeal,
until it reaches the soul, but, belonging to the incorporeal soul,
(the gnostic principle expressly) as a choice excellence, avails,
by its own incorruptness so beloved by God, for preserving un-
corrupt that which is corporeal. For the soul holding to the
idea of the true good, and soaring to it, as on the wing of this
incorruptness, even as like to like ; and perceiving, I say, that
by this incorruptness in herself, the incorruptible God can alone
be worthily worshipped, she brings up the virginity of the body
as an obsequious servant to assist her in the worship of beauty
like her own ; and desiring ever to hold it so, without a struggle,
in the contemplation of God, she drives away as far as possible
the tumultuating pleasures of the body.' Further on, in the
same treatise, De Vera Virginitate, the nun is said to strive to
• In citing here, and in several other places, Basil's ascetic writings, 1
hold myself ready to give the reputation of so great a man the benefit of any
doubt that may seem to attach to them as the productions of his pen. Im
portant as such a question is, if this father's personal fame be in view, it is
nearly indifferent to the argument we are now engaged in ; for we are inquir
ing concerning the opinions of an age, not about those of individuals. The
doubt, however, in this case is of the slenderest kind. The belief of 'some'
that the ascelica had been wrongly attributed to Basil, is so referred to by
Sozomen, lib. iii., as to show that common opinion assigned them to him.
Clearly they are of the same age : they had long been before the world when
Sozomen wrote ; and moreover they had been recognised as accordant with
Basil's known opinions.

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 171
present herself to the incorporeal deity yvfiviiv, and unconscious
of any pleasures attaching to the body. I can do nothing more, con
sistently with the limits within which this branch of the argument
must be restricted, than just point to the places where sentiments
of this sort are to be met with, in their expanded form. In the view
of the general reader, who must accept this sort of evidence as it is
laid before him, my inferences may seem to be too slenderly con
nected with the facts, as adduced. Let them then be contradicted
by those who have at command the means of examining this evi
dence in the mass. Or, let the advocates of ancient Christianity
favour the world by including among the ' records of the church,'
or the ' selections from the Fathers,' a translation, whole and entire,
of this very treatise on the true virginity.
It is of a piece with the false gnostic notion of the mode of
approaching the Deity, as advanced by Basil, that this wise
and holy man is found spending his strength upon the observances
of factitious sanctity ; and that, in a practical composition ad
dressed directly to women, he enters, with the most offensive
particularity, into physical disquisitions and speculations, of a
kind not only totally unbecoming in a minister of religion, and
marveUously improper as intended for a lady's oratory, but un
connected in the remotest way, with the culture of that true ' holi
ness ' of which the Apostles speak. But the two systems of virtue
were wrought out of altogether different elements. Basil, like
Athanasius 'and others, thinks himself called upon to enter a
christian lady's dressing-room, and there to give her rules for the
whole of her behaviour at the toilette, gravely enjoining her,
among sundry instructions equally important, and in pity to the
angels who visit her chamber, to use the utmost despatch in the
necessary care of her hair, lest they, to their own peril, should
look too long upon her dishevelled tresses ! Then follows the
customary reference to Gen. vi. 2, our author having before
warned the nun of preserving her bashfulness, not merely when
in the presence of men, but always, and in recollection of the
' circumambient angels,' from whose regards she could never with
draw herself.* " * Tom. i. p. 747, of the Paris edition, 1618.

172

CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE

Now if we assume that these miserable and pernicious refine
ments actually took effect, as they were likely to do, on the
minds of sensitive and superstitious young women, could the
result be any thing else than that of diverting the thoughts from
whatever is truly spiritual and genuine in piety, and putting in
Its place a morbid solicitude concerning the person, so imagina
tive in its objects, and so voluptuous in its style, as to differ very
little from the most dangerous species of prurience ? A nunnery,
fully brought under this sort of management, could become
nothing better than a spiritual harem. Shall we then wish for
our daughters, that, in place of the rational and truly apostolic
instructions which they are receiving from modern christian pas
tors, they should be consigned to the influence of divines, such
as Basil, Nazianzen, Nyssen ? Horrid thought ! nevertheless
from this utterly vicious system nothing could even now save us,
if once we were to resolve to surrender ourselves to what we are
taught to reverence as ' catholic teaching.' Catholic teaching I
Basfl's treatise on virginity is catholic teaching, and a fair speci
men of the language and temper of the times. If any thing at
all be catholic, that is to say, ancient and universal, the false
gnostic theosophy of the ascetic institute is catholic.
A few phrases, as I have said, can convey but a very imperfect
impression of the spirit and tendency of a prolix treatise ; and
yet more copious quotations must embrace what it would be an
outrage to every right feeling to adduce. An unreserved trans
lation of Basil — one of the best of the fathers, could it be tole
rated, would astound the christian world. I have affirmed that
a religious house of the times now in question, could be little
better than a harem ; if this imputation be resented, as it pro
bably may, let the facts implied by Basil toward the close of the
treatise I have cited, be taken as evidence that a modern turkish
seraglio might be chosen as a preferable asylum for female virtue.
Or if this evidence were not enough, I shall hereafter have to
refer to passages in Chrysostom and in Jerome, the plain import
of which, making every reasonable allowance, wifl leave a deci
sive advantage to be claimed for a pacha's palace, if compared
with the ancient Koivojiioi'.
To repress and exclude the abuses invariably atterftlant upon

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 173
this vicious system, the great writers of the time laboured with
indignant animation. But not even one of them, as it appears,
set himself to call in question the principle upon which it rested,
or inquired in what school that principle had been learned. So
thoroughly had the feeling and the notions of what I cannot
scruple to call, a baptized sooffeeism, pervaded the christian
community, that no suspicion seems to have been entertained of
the cheat which so early had put the buddhist theosophy in the
room of christian theology — leaving to the Church its dry ortho
doxy indeed, but hiding from it the genuine conception of the
divine nature.
In an argument such as the one now before us, it may be well
to abstain from citing those writers whose reputation was in any
way tarnished, or whose style is not in harmony with that of the
age they lived in ; or if references of this kind are made, it should
be only so far as these less esteemed authorities speak the
language that was authenticated by their better reputed con
temporaries, and which does but echo prevafling opinions. Now
with these cautions in view, and after the most esteemed fathers,
such as Basil, and the two Gregorys, have been consulted on the
subject of the angelic perfection of the ascetic life, let the Hymns
of Synesius be referred to. In these (some of them) beautiful
compositions the oriental theosophy, under whatever temporary
designation it may pass, and whether it be called buddhism, or
sooffeeism, or pythagorism, or platonism, or gnosticism — this
same doctrine, thinly spangled with christian phrases, is clearly
and boldly expressed. These hymns then, as the productions of
a man, albeit a bishop and an associate of the great divines of
the age, who at the time of his almost compulsory consecration,
did not profess himself to be much better than half a christian,
could not fairly avail us, in argument, as legitimate evidence, if
they did not find parallels in the best theological writings of the
time. If indeed a correct notion of gnosticism is to be gathered
from the reports of Clement, Irenseus, and Origen, this seductive
doctrine, utterly unlike christian theology, is substantially em
bodied in the Hymns of Synesius, leaving out indeed so much of
its jargon, as must have shocked every christian ear, and ex
pressing just so much as might find its apology in the writings of

174 CONNEXION OF THE ANCIENT CELIBATE.
the orthodox. This gnostic doctrine then, as advanced by the
bishop of Cyrene, implies a total oblivion, as wefl of man's real
condition, as guflty and morally corrupt, as of the divine purity,
opposed to this corruption ; and the putting in the place of these
truths, the buddhist idea of the Father of souls, or ocean of mind,
into which pure spirits, struggling away from matter, are at length
to return. If the first and the second hymn be compared with
Basil's treatise on virginity, from which I have already made an
extract, not merely a loose resemblance, but a close analogy must
be acknowledged to connect the two writers, in this instance ;
and if the bishop of Cyrene employs a phrase or two which the
bishop of Caesarea would perhaps have rejected, there is little or
nothing to choose between the two, either as to principle, or
tendency. Many turns of expression, occurring in the hymns of Synesius,
would pass unnoticed by a modern reader, not already apprised
of the specific sense attached to such phrases in the contemporary
gnostic schools. Some indeed of these modes of speaking would
seem strange in the last degree, and utterly unwarrantable ; as for
instance, when, addressing the Deity the poet says —
2w irarfjp, av 8' eaal fiarrip,
2u Se apprjv, av Se dijXve'
but when we come to open the records of gnosticism, the real
value, or, as it is called, the historic sense of these characteristic
phrases presents itself clearly enough. Such are the terms —
' root of the world,' ' root of roots,' ' fountain of fountains ; ' and
the prosopopoeias of 'Wisdom,' 'Mind,' 'Generative Power,'
and the like ; the ' wave-troubled Hyle,' the ' thrice splendid
Morpha,' the ' Primogenitive Beauty,' and the ' daemon
swarm which Nature hatches.' And such too is the language in
which Synesius lauds the abstractive fife, which, as he says, ' opens
to the human spirit a way of return to the upper sphere ; ' —
language almost identical with that of Basfl ; see particularly the
close of the second hymn, or of the third ; and he prays that, untfl
he shall be permitted to lose himself again in the ' ocean of fight,'
and while compelled to submit to the trammels of the corporeal
state, he may at least be aided in leading a fife as exempt as

WITH THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 175
possible from human affections, and from all contact with the
soul-depressing Hyle. With these aspirations of the lofty mystic,
it is rather curious to compare the temper and conduct of the real
Synesius — the palpable bishop of Cyrene, who does not dis
semble the fact that he would fain have relieved the tedium of
his corporeal existence, now and then, by the jocund pleasures of
the chase.
If an elaborate disquisition on this important feature of ancient
Christianity were in hand, instead of a hasty allusion to it, which
is all I can attempt, the hymns of Synesius might very properly
be taken as the text of the argument ; with these, adduced at
length, should then be compared the entire extant specimens of
the language of the professedly gnostic teachers — Syrian and
Egyptian. Next should follow, what might easily be collected,
a copious citation of passages from the nicene writers, pre
senting, not merely innumerable coincidences of expression, but
many real analogies of doctrine, and near approximations in
feeling ; and all tending in the same direction, to establish
beyond a doubt the fact, that the oriental theosophy, while for
mally repelled by the orthodox church, had silently worked its
way into all minds, uttering itself in the various modes of mystic
exaggeration, and condensing its practical import within the
usages of the ascetic system. The massive walls of the church,
like a hastily constructed coffer-dam, had repelled, from age to
age, the angry bfllows of the gnostic heresy, which could never
open a free passage for themselves within the sacred enclosure.
Nevertheless these waters, bitter and turbid, no sooner rose high
around the shattered structure, than, through a thousand fissures,
they penetrated, and in fact stood at one and the same mean level,
within, where they were silently stagnant, as without, where they
were in angry commotion. Dare we say that, at rest, they work
themselves either clear or sweet ?

176

CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
NOTIONS ENTERTAINED OF THE
SCHEME OF SALVATION.

We have, in the next place, to inquire in what way, and to what
extent, the principle and practice of religious cefibacy affected, as
wefl the doctrine as the sentiment ofthe ancient church, in regard
to the scheme of salvation, and the means of the divine mercy
toward man, as depraved, and as liable to condemnation.
There is surely some prominent truth, broadly distinguishing
Christianity, as compared with every other religious system, and
which may be taken as its characteristic ; nor can we hesitate to
name as such, the mode it propounds for restoring mankind,
guilty and polluted, to the divine favour — a scheme utterly unlike
any which man has ever devised for himself. Every thing else
belonging to the Gospel, may find elsewhere its faint resemblance,
or its imperfect rudiment : but this doctrine is the peerless pre
rogative of the inspired writings : — obscurely, yet substantially
unfolded in the Old, fully and brightly set forth in the New Tes
tament. By emphasis this doctrine of mercy, however variously
expressed, or peculiarly expounded in different schools of divinity,
is called — the Gospel; for it is the happy news which God only
could announce ; which man never had surmised, and which,
although so worthy as it is of all acceptation, he has perversely
shown himself, in every age, marvellously slow to apprehend, apt
to lose sight of, and prompt to embarrass or deny.
In the present instance, as I am anxious to avoid, on the one
hand, the style of a philosophical disquisition, so on the other, I
would gladly refrain from the technical language of a theological

CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE, &C. 177
treatise ; and would keep close to what is proper to a plain
historical inquiry concerning facts which may be unquestionably
established by an appeal to evidence. But, avoiding every phrase
that has acquired a controversial sense, and every mode of ex
pression that may recall the ' confession' of this, that, or the
other religious party, one may surely speak of the characteristic
principle of Christianity in terms such as, without being vague,
shall carry the concurrence of all devout and intelligent readers of
the Scriptures. Is not then the Gospel a message of mercy — free,
full in its provisions, and sovereign — a message implying that all
men are, in this regard, on a level in the sight of God, and that
that which is indispensable to the salvation of the most flagitious
offender, is not the less indispensable to that of the most amiable
and harmless? Is not the Gospel one method op salvation,
sufficient for the worst — necessary for the best ? Does not the
Gospel, if indeed it be understood, carry with it as thorough a
lesson of humiliation to one proud heart, as to another ? Does
it not bring with it as much, and as sure a consolation to one
guilty heart, as to another ? Does it not convince all men alike,
of sin, and of moral impotency ? Does it not confirm all, if
indeed it be accepted, in the same good hope of favour, and
of being regarded as now no longer aliens, but as sons, and as
fellow-heirs with Christ ?
In whatever way other religious schemes that have prevailed
in the world may be classified, they all stand at an equal distance
from Christianity, in regard to its peculiarity and its glory, its
doctrine of justification through faith : some of these schemes
may indeed approach it more nearly than others, as to its morality ;
some seem to come within the penumbra of the light which it
sheds upon the unseen world ; some consist better than others
with the temporal wellbeing of man : — but all occupy a ground
immeasurably remote from that on which the Gospel takes its
stand. All differ from Christianity, in this respect, just as night
differs from day ; and whether the night be rendered magnificent
by miflions of stars, or be overcast with the thickest clouds.
If at any time a comparison be instituted between true religion
and false religion, taken absolutely, it may barely be worth the
labour it may cost, to distinguish among the several kinds of the

178 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
latter : inasmuch as all come nearly to the same practical result ;
the best, as well as the worst, leaving man uncomforted in the
prospect of futurity, and unamended in his heart and life.
But when, as now, our intention is to make inquiry concerning
the particular corruptions which true religion has undergone in
the lapse of ages, it becomes necessary to distinguish, and to clas
sify a little, those several forms of error which have successively
overlaid the truth, one by one, or several in conjunction. Such
a discrimination is absolutely requisite, as all protestants admit,
in relation to romanism, which so strangely and so admirably
combines the main principles of every anterior false religion. Nor
shall we find it really less requisite in following up to their sources
those fatal errors of the ancient church which gradually ripened
into romanism.
All religions have been of asiatic origin ; and (the true now
not considered) they resolve themselves easfly into two great
principles, conveniently designated by the historical terms, bud
dhism and brahminism. The influence of the former, in its more
recent garb, as gnosticism, we have already adverted to ; and espe
cially in so far as it gave birth to, and sustained, the abstractive
ascetic practice, and the doctrine of theangefic virtue of virginity.
We shall next have to trace the operation, latent indeed, but un
questionable, of the brahminical principle combining itself with
the former ; and the two, hostile as they were east of the Indus,
blending together most amicably within the precincts of the
christian church. This blended buddhism and brahminism is,
in a word, the ancient monkery, at once abstractive and peni
tential. How shall wretched man return to virtue and happiness ? The
buddhist, the sooffee,the pythagorean, the gnostic, replied— By the
imperishable spirit extricating itself from its connexion with mat
ter, the eternal source of evfl ; and by merging itself anew in the
eternal, universal Good. The characteristic of this scheme, under
all its varieties, is its total disregard of the moral derangement of
human nature ; or rather, we should say, its view of moral evfl as
a mere accident, and a temporary consequence of natural evfl. In
its practical instructions, therefore, it insisted more upon mental
abstraction, sflence, simpficity of diet, and celibacy, than upon

scheme of SALVATION. 179
any positive austerities, or propitiatory rites : sin, man's misfor
tune, not fault, did not need to be expiated.
But the brahminical doctrine took up the other element of
theology ; and along with its terrible array of divinities, most of
them vindictive, and all invested with human qualities, it pro
pounded a system of propitiation, and concerned itself immediately
with the moral sentiment, and wrought upon the conscience : it
addressed itself more to the fears, than to the hopes of which the
human mind is alternately the sport : it admitted man to be
guilty, and in danger of wrath ; it was therefore sanguinary,
gloomy, sumptuous and elaborate in ceremonial, popular in its
aspect, rather than philosophical, and of unbounded power, in
volving as it did, and having at its command, all the terrors that
wait upon guilt ; so that it could enforce the most revolting, and
the most excruciating practices of immolation, and of self-torture.
In the name of the gods, the avengers of crime, it could com
mand the trembling wretch — its victim, to inflict upon himself,
or to sustain, whatever pains he might imagine his angry judge to
be prepared to inflict upon him. If we would see the two oriental
systems, and each characteristically embodied (one might say
disembodied, for each leaves to man barely a shadow of his entire
constitution) we should only have to look, on the one hand, to
the dreaming sooffee, lost to sense and natural affection, an idiot
sage, or as one might say, a metaphysic vegetable, just alive,
where he sits ; and on the other side, to the hindoo fakir, cruci
fied without a cross, his nails piercing his palms ; the martyr of
conscience, and grasped by the despair of guilt.
The church of Rome has, without scruple, adopted, blended,
and refined, the elements of these two schemes of religion ; and
after having formally and tacitly, dogmatically and practically,
excluded the gospel, it has provided itself with a circuitous, and
somewhat complex reply to the question which the alarmed con
science is ever and again propounding. Its answer to the ques
tion — ' What must a man do to be saved V involves something
of buddhism, and more of brahminism ; it takes up the gnostic
physical abstraction, and the philosophic sanctity, and this it
offers to its elite, the elevated, impassioned and devotional /etti :
and then it takes up the moral element of religion, and deals in

180 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
penances, macerations, flagellations, masses, confessions, absolu
tions, purgatorial expiations, and the vicarious offices of the
clergy, and of the saints, of the dead and of the flving ; and this
compound it offers to the rabble of mankind — the debauched and
trembling multitude, who, as the long dreaded time comes when
nothing better can be thought of, thankfully accept from the
priests' hands any salvation that is offered to them, and on any
terms. In thinking of popery, we should never lose sight of its two
blended elements — its buddhism, and its brahminism — its ab
stractive, and its expiatory principles — its provision for the few,
and its provision for the many. Both ingredients are brought to
bear, as in a focus, upon the monastic institute, of which celibacy,
the prime article, stood chiefly related to the first of them ; while
the practices of mortification and penance were related to the
second. The perfect monk, ' the angel upon earth,' such as we
find him elaborately depicted by the great church writers from
Basil to Bernard, was at once, and in nearly equal proportions,
the sooffee, and the fakir ; the enthusiast, and the fanatic ; the
sublime theosophist, and the bleeding, weeping, whining, or puling
martyr of a darkened conscience.
But alas ! it is not alone of the superstition of the middle ages
that we have thus to speak ; for ancient Christianity — the uni
versally accredited system of the nicene age, blends, in the like
manner, though with less compactness, the two ingredients ofthe
natural refigion of mankind ; and while most explicitly gnostic
in its temper and sentiments, it was also brahminical, as well
in doctrine as in practice.
If, with the great divines of the fourth century around us, we
plainly put the question to one and all — ' How shall guflty man
approach the just and holy God, and how secure his favour ?' the
prompt and formal answer no doubt wiU be, — 'By humbly
accepting the redemption procured for mankind by the Saviour
Christ, and conveyed through the hands of the Church.' But then
this reply is ordinarfly couched in very indefinite terms ; and when
we come to repeat our demand, and to pursue it as a practical
question, then the more exact answer given, by one and afl, is to
this effect — ' First, that man may place himself near to God, and

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 181
may anticipate, on earth, the absolute virtue and felicity of
heaven, by removing himself, as far as possible, from the inimical
vXri with which, in the present state, he is implicated ; and with
this view, that is to say, if he would be perfect, he must regard
the preservation of an inviolate virginity as the great business of
piety ; and then, thus far exempted from the conditions of animal
life, he must addict himself to lofty meditations of the divine
attributes :' or, to use the very words of Chrysostom, ' That the
soul disengaged from its trammels and all earthly thoughts, should
wing its way to its home, and its native sofl.' But secondly, that,
in order to regain and secure the favour of God, man must pro
pitiate his offended judge, and take into his own hands, in the
present life, that discipline of chastisement which he so well
merits, and may so justly expect as his due. Now, in this latter
point of view, celibacy has its use, as the necessary condition of
that mode of life which leaves a man at full leisure to practise the
whole round of expiatory and abstersive austerities. How should
the married and the busy get through, from day to day, with the
heavy work of penance ? Such, in substance, was the ancient
theology, and the piety of the nicene church !
Within this system therefore, religious celibacy was, at once
the expression of gnostic feelings (as we have seen) and the
condition, or the preliminary of a course of penance and
expiation. Yet let it not for a moment be supposed that the nicene
church, or the great writers of that age, either formally denied, or
failed frequently to mention, the great doctrine of the remission
of sins, granted through the means of the sacrifice once offered on
the cross. The ancient church no more denied this doctrine,
than it rejected orthodoxy ; nevertheless the relative position into
which it had been suffered to subside, was such as in fact involved
a loss of its vital influence : it no longer presented its radiating
surface towards the consciences of men.
The experience of eighteen centuries might surely now suffice
for convincing the Church that, to secure the efficacy of the
Gospel, something more is requisite than a formal acknowledg
ment of a set of dogmas ; and that the relative position of great
principles, as foremost, or as hindermost, is the very circumstance
0

182 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
on which depends their taking any effect upon the human mind.
All systems, professedly christian, agree in representing holiness,
or an inwrought conformity to the moral character of God, as the
end and substance of piety ; and the difference between system
and system turns upon the answer that is given to the question
' How, as to the process, is this holiness to be effected ?' The
Gospel, and this is its characteristic, makes the free remission
of sins, and an immediate reconcfliation to God, through the
mediation of Christ, the spring, or first motive of morality. To
him who would be near God, and to him who would be like God,
it says — ' Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of
the worid.' This is the gospel method of holiness. Reconciled
to God, and enjoying the privileges of children, the spirit of
holiness dwells in the hearts of believers, as a purifying in
fluence. But if, instead of putting the doctrine of pardon and recon
ciliation foremost, as the source and cause of genuine religious
feeling and real virtue, we put an ifl-digested, half-phflo-
sophic, half-hindoo, notion of sanctity foremost, and if we
bend our endeavours toward it, as the main object, then, whatever
profession we may make of faith in Christ, our motives will have
none of the vitality, or of the force of christian holiness. The sun
is not indeed driven from the heavens, in such a system ; but it
is eclipsed ; and the christian, for such we must still call him,
droops, becomes pallid, gloomy, superstitious, timid, punctilious ;
a trembling attendant upon rites, a perfunctory practitioner of
ceremonies — fretting, fasting, upbraiding himself, impatient of
earth, afraid to hope for heaven, and feeling like the dyspeptic
patient who, in his troubled dreams, thinks himself to be
labouring to mount a ladder, and yet, with all his painful
efforts, not rising an inch from the ground. Such is the sad
condition of those in whose spiritual perspective the truths
which should occupy the foreground, are seen in the distance ;
— they are indeed seen ; but it is as ' afar off,' and as a cold
glimmer. In the perspective of ancient Christianity, personal sanctity
stood in front of the doctrine of justification by faith (or the
doctrine, by whatever phrase it may be designated, which is the

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 183
characteristic of the Gospel) and so far obscured it ; but this was
not all ; for, in front of this very doctrine of personal sanctity,
stood the gnostic notion of angelic perfection, or virginity : thus
was there effected a double eclipse of the light of the Gospel. If
the question had been put — ' What is a christian's aim ?' and it
had been replied — 'To be holy;' and again, 'How may he
become holy in the most absolute manner?' the answer was —
' By avoiding the contaminations of matrimony, and by refraining
on earth from that which the angels are denied in heaven — the
marrying, and the being given in marriage.' Of what avail then
would it be to prove, by multiplied citations, that the doctrine of
the remission of sins, and of justification, in some ambiguous
sense of the term, was held by the ancient church ? Let reason
able men ask themselves whether the Gospel, such as we find it
in the inspired writings, could possibly consist with, or could be
efficacious, as a body of motives, in combination with notions
such as these ?
Is the doctrine of the atonement, and of a full remission of sins
thereby procured, a doctrine of universal application, or is it not?
Have all men equal need of it ; or is it only a desperate resource,
left for those who have unhappily failed to secure heaven for
themselves in a more direct, honourable, and legitimate manner ?
This question is a vital one in relation to Christianity, and on the
answer that may be given to it, whether our reply be formal or
tacit, turns the entire character of our piety. , Let then this
question be repeated in any such pointed manner as may seem
the most likely to bring it conclusively to an issue. All allow
that the thief on the cross must have been saved by a sovereign
extension toward him of that mercy, the means of which were,
at that moment, being secured by the suffering Saviour. But if
the ' beloved disciple ' had been dragged to Calvary, along with
his Master, and if, as might have happened, he had occupied the
right-hand cross, would he too have been saved by the same
means as the thief, and on the very same principle ? Or, had he
already reached, by merit of virginity, and by the purity of his
manners, such a proximity to the divine holiness, as that he
needed nothing but just to drop the encumbrance of the flesh, and
to find himself at ease before the eternal throne ? We surely
o 2

184 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
should not gather any such supposition as this from his own
language, when he says of the Saviour that ' He is the propitiation
for our sins.'
But now there would be no end to our citations, were we to
adduce all, or a third of those passages from the fathers in
which celibacy, when held to in a strict manner, is spoken of as
a mode of life differing from that of the angels in heaven, neither
in purity, nor in security ; and only so far in felicity, as resulted
from the conditions of mortality : ' drop the flesh, and then the
monk, or the virgin nun, is at once a seraph!' That no such
passage might he produced, I will not affirm, but certainly I
have not met with so much as one, in which the inviolate virgin
is spoken of as being, like others, ey en Wke any repentant magda-
lene, dependent altogether for salvation upon the vicarious merits
of the Saviour. Allowing however that some such passage might
be hunted up, yet assuredly it is not the usual style of the great
church writers of the nicene age. Certainly this way of putting
the case, in relation to the monk and virgin, is not characteristic
of ' catholic teaching.' Catholic teaching runs in a contrary
direction, and the clear import of it is to this effect — That to have
exhorted a ' spotless nun,' in her last hour, to look to the atone
ment, as the only ground of hope for a dying sinner (or saint)
would have been a very inappropriate, unseemly, and even offen
sive sort of interference with the honour and comfort she was
entitled to : and would have been an insult, like thrusting an
obolus into the palm of a Croesus.
I boldly ask any one competent to give me a reply, whether
herein I misrepresent the general character of ancient catholic
teaching ; and if not, then I ask, appealing not merely to the
few, who may be able to turn to the'patristic folios, but to the
right-minded christian world at large, whether the first element
of the Gospel was not effectually and fatally compromised by an
institute which, in practice, superseded the ' only hope ' that
' maketh not ashamed V
At this point we touch that article of discrimination — that test
which exhibits the difference between apostolic, and nicene
Christianity. Does Paul, when, either obliquely or directly, he
expresses his personal hope of heaven, so speak as to imply that

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

185

he looked to be acquitted, accepted, and saved, on any other
principle than that which he would have urged upon a penitent
prodigal, called, at an hour's warning, to appear before God ?
We confidently assume that the Apostle was used to make no dis-
tinctibjis whatever between man and man, when persuading all to
' lay hold of the hope set before them in the Gospel.'
, But how different is the style of the doctors of the nicene and
following age ! Then, a spiritual aristocracy had grown up within
the Church ; and those of this class who could profess that their
celestial escutcheons were shamed by no spot — these, if never
plainly told that they stood above the range of the gospel scheme
of salvation, were seldom, if ever, told that they could claim no
exemption, and were entitled to no prerogative, and must be
saved, if at all, even as others. What then ! after all her conflicts
with nature, all her tears and fastings, must the spotless virgin,
the spouse of Christ, submit at the last to the humfliation of
standing along with the married, on the same level, needing
mercy even as others ? alas ! if it comes to this, has she not been
driving a poor trade ?
Those can know very little of the human heart who can believe
that monks and nuns, talked to as they constantly were by their
spiritual guides, and told that, because virgins in body and soul,
they stood as near to God as flesh and blood can stand — that
these victims of delusion could, nevertheless, be humbly and
contritely relying, as sinners, upon the propitiatory work of
Christ. It was not so in fact ; no such spirit breathes through
the extant records of monkish piety : here and there we gladly
catch a faint gleam of sunshine, as in a wintry and watery day ;
but monkish piety, on the whole, was nothing better than what
we must expect to meet with, as the proper fruit of this ' catholic
teaching.' Catholic teaching ! let us hear a little of it ; and, for a sample,
take the portrait of a spotless nun, as drawn by the master hand
of Chrysostom himself: and be it remembered, we are not now
about to gaze upon the blind pharisee, whose lips, life, and man
ners said to all around him — ' Stand by, I am holier than thou ; '
but upon an ideal of christian perfection, conceived and expressed
by one who, irrespective of his high station in the Church, has

186 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
always been granted to stand forward as the prince of the
Fathers. The passage I am about to quote is taken from a tract to
which I shall have occasion again to refer : it was composed by
Chrysostom, with the hope of repressing a practice simflar
to that against which Cyprian had long before, and in another
quarter of the Church, vehemently protested ; and which tract,
with its companion, addressed to monks, contains admissions and
exposures which one must have thought exaggerations, if they
were not borne out by concurrent testimony. But let the arch
bishop's immaculate nun step upon the stage. Our author had
just told the nun that, like cherubim and seraphim, she and her
order constituted, not th& attendants of the eternal King, but his
very chariot.*
'The virgin, when she goes abroad, should present herself as
the bright specimen, ciynXfxct, of all philosophy : and strike all with
amazement, as if now an angel had descended from heaven ; or
just as if one of the cherubim had appeared upon earth, and
were turning the eyes of all men upon himself So should all
those who look upon the virgin be thrown into admiration, and
stupor, at the sight of her sanctity. And when she advances, she
moves as through a desert : or when she sits at church, it is with
the profoundest sflence : her eye catches nothing of the objects
around her ; she sees neither women nor men ; but her Spouse
only ; and him as if present and apparent : and then retiring to
her home, there again she communes with him, in prayers, and his
voice alone she listens to, in the Scriptures ; and upon him there
she muses, whom she desires and loves : and whatever she does,
it is as a pilgrim and a stranger, to whom things present are aa
nothing. Not only does she hide herself from the eyes of men,
but avoids the society of secular women also. The body she takes
care of only so far as necessity compels her, while she bestows all
her reo-ards upon the soul : and who shall not marvel at her ?
who shaU not be in ecstasy, in thus beholding the angefic life
* In quoting Chrysostom I shall refer to the volume and page of the recent
I'aris reprint of the Benedictine edition, which is perhaps as likely as any
other to be accessible to the studious reader. The above occurs, tom. i.
p. 321.

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 187
embodied in a female form ? And who is it that shall dare approach
her? Where is the man who shall venture to touch this flaming
spirit? Nay rather, all stand aloof, willing or unwilling; all
are fixed in amazement as if there were before their eyes a mass
of incandescent and sparkling gold ! Gold hath indeed by nature
great splendour; but when, moreover, saturate with fire, how
admirable, nay even fearful is it ! Much more when to a golden
soul this happens, not only shall the spectacle be desired by men,
but even by angels.'
Miserable teaching this, whether catholic or not. How could
the subject of any such rhapsody, if any might actually have
thought herself the archetype of the picture, how could she ima
gine herself obliged to listen, like others, to thehumbling doctrine
of the cross ? But such as was the teaching and the system, such
were its practical effects ; and it is remarkable that, for an ingenu
ous statement of these effects, we need go no further than to the
two tracts above referred to ; for actually within the distance of a
page or two from the place where this ' lump of molten gold,'
dazzles the eye, we find descriptions barely fit to be translated,
of the ordinary night-scenes in a Constantinopolitan convent, or
more properly, ecclesiastical fxaaTpoiriov. Could nothing lead so
wise and good a man as Chrysostom to entertain the suspicion
that the Church had, in this instance at least, utterly misunder
stood the purport and spirit of the Gospel ?
Under another head of the present argument, I shall feel it
unavoidable to revert to the two connected tracts, from one of
which the above-cited passage is taken; leaving therefore its con
text untouched at present — pertinent though it be, I wfll here
only observe that the quotation is a sample, one among hundreds,
nay thousands, which might be easily produced, of a fault
generally characteristic of the great writers (and the small writers)
of the ancient church — I mean the propensity to magnify and
glorify what is merely human ; in fact, to worship and to deify
the creature, more than the Creator ; that is to say, so to magnify
human virtue, as that, upon the general fleld of the people's view,
the encomium of man subtends a larger angle, than the praises of
God and of his Christ. Do not the fathers then worship God?
do they not adore the Son of God? Assuredly : but when they

188 CONNEXION OP THE CELIBATE WITH THE
muster all the forces of their eloquence, when they catch fire, and
swell, as if inspfred, whenever (I must be permitted to make the
allusion, for it is really appropriate) whenever they take their seat
upon the tripod and begin to foam, the subject of the rhapsody is
suretobe — ' a blessed martyr,' it may bean Apostle ; or a recently
departed ' doctor,' or ' a virgin confessor;' or it is the relics of such
a one, and the miraculous virtues of his sacred dust. If, in turning
over these folios, the eye is anywhere caught by the frequency of
interjections, such a page is quite as fikely to be found to sparkle
and flash with the commendations of the mother of God, or of
her companion saints, as with the praises of the Son ; and more
often does the flood-tide of eloquence swell with the mysterious
virtues of the sacraments, than with the power and grace of the
Saviour. The Saviour does indeed sit enthroned within the veil
of the christian temple ; but what the christian populace hear
most about, is — the temple itself, and its embroideries, and its
gildings, and its ministers, and its rites, and the saints that fill its
niches. In a word, what was visible, and what was human, stood
in front of what is invisible and divine ; and when we find a
system of blasphemous idolatry fully expanded in the middle
ages, this system cannot, in equity, be spoken of as any thing
else than a following out of the adulatory rhapsodies of the great
writers and preachers of the nicene church.
Of this impious adulation the martyrs and confessors were the
first objects ; and then came those ' terrestrial seraphs,' the monks
and virgins. The ancient church, well knowing its real and vast
superiority, on all grounds of theological truth and moral prin
ciple, as compared with the polytheistic world, or with the schools
of phflosophy, and yet trampled to the dust, and contemned, and
exposed to humiliations such as human nature very seldom well
sustains, sought to right itself, as far as it could, by indulging in
exaggerations of every kind ; and no sooner did it get the upper
hand of its enemies, that is to say — its abstract Enemy, and
its pagan persecutors in every particular vicinity, than it gave
vent to its stifled pride and resentment, in torrents of adulatory
congratulation, in the hurry of which the glory of God stood
in abeyance, whfle the vindicatory praises of man were to be
uttered.

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

189

In advancing this general allegation, I must decline to appeal
for support to those who, by a long and fond converse with
christian antiquity, and by mere familiarity with its style, have
ceased to feel what others would most painfully be conscious of;
but I am willing to be judged by any well-informed persons of
sound and undamaged mind, who, fraught with genuine christian
sentiments, and hitherto unacquainted with the writers in ques
tion, shall look through the orations of the most noted of them,
such, 1 mean, as Chrysostom, Basil, the two Gregorys, Jerome,
and Augustine. On what occasion then do these great orators
and doctors kindle and glow ? When is it that they exhaust the
powers of language, and return upon their theme, as if they could
never think that they had done it justice ? Is it when they are
holding forth, before the multitude, the glory of the Saviour of
sinners ? Is it when they are blowing the silver trumpet of mercy,
in- the hearing of the guilty ? Alas ! it is not so. The Saviour, not
denied indeed, but not glorified, is left by these orators to sleep in
the hinder part of the ship : or he is imprisoned in the creeds and
liturgies of the Church, while commendations, which grecian and
roman sages would equally have loathed to pronounce, and have
blushed to receive, are lavished upon the heroes of the Church,
or its anchorets.
Are these representations fair or not ? I appeal to those who
will go with fresh christian feelings into the company of the
fathers. But if the facts be such as I allege, will any pretend
that an unaffected and heart-stirring proclamation of the Gospel —
the glad tidings of mercy, free, and adapted to all men's accepta
tion, was likely to consist with so much bombast and frippery,
about the merits, miracles, and virtues of the shoals of saints that
burden the calendar ? Two such abhorrent elements will never
coalesce ; and if the Church must and will have her demi-gods, to
adorn her state in the eyes of the prostrate multitude, she must
even forego the presence of her Lord.
A dry, polemic orthodoxy, severed from the Gospel, is the doc
trinal description of ancient Christianity : and I here refuse to be
put to sflence by any who shall return the phrase ' the Gospel',
upon me, as if I used it in the cant sense of this, or that, modem
sect ; and as if it conveyed some restricted and special scheme of

190 CONNEXIOK OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
doctrme. By the gospel, I mean nothing more or less than the
frank declaration of God's mercy to guflty man, assuring to him,
through faith in Christ, the fufl and absolute remission of his sins,
and an exemption from 'afl condemnation,' and fear of wrath. I
do not affect to speak as a theologian ; nor care to cut and trim
the phrases I may employ, so as shafl make them square with
this or that ' confession.' Does the Bible offer no broad and
universally intelligible sense, even on the most momentous sub
jects ? If it does, then it does so in conveying, to the troubled
conscience, a message of joy— authentic, simple, efficacious, and
such as subdues the grateful heart to obedience.
Now, meaning this by— the Gospel, I affirm that, from begin
ning to end of the patristic remains, the clearness and brightness
of the message of mercy is obscured, its simplicity encumbered,
and its efficacious power almost entirely nullified. In entering
the gorgeous edifice of the ancient church, one's feelings are very
much such as might belong to a descent into some stalactite
cavern, the sad magnificence of which is never cheered by the
beams of heaven; for there is no noon, there no summer. The
wonders of the place must be seen hy the glare of artificial light,
which confounds objects as much as reveals them, and which fills
the place more with fumes than with any genial infiuence. In
this dim theatre forms stand out as if a senate of divinities had
here assembled ; but approach them — all is hard, cold, sflent.
Drops are distilling from the vault ; and every stony icicle that
glistens in the light, seems as if endued with penitence, or as if
contrition were the very temper of the place : but do these drops
fertilize the ground on which they fall? No, they do but trickle
a moment, and then add stone to stone — chill to chill. Does the
involuntary exclamation break from the bosom in such a place —
Surely this is the very gate of heaven ! Rather one shudders with
the apprehension that one is entering the shadows of the valley of
death ; and that the only safety is in a quick return to the upper
world. Negations and deficiencies are not easfly to be set forth, in any
of the usual modes of adducing evidence ; nor is it to be supposed
that the general allegation, as attaching to ancient Christianity, of
a want of that element which makes the gospel a gospel, could be

SCHEME OF SOLVATION. 191
established by the citation of a few passages, collected here and
there. The fact alleged presents itself to a rightly-principled
mind, in passing up and down through the patristic theology.
What we ought to meet with in christian writers, we do not find ;
or find it seldom, and find it overlaid, and find it wrought up
with neutralizing ingredients. I wfll however endeavour to put
a clue into the hand of the diligent student, which may enable
him, with less labour than otherwise, to verify or to correct the
averment here made, namely, That the religious celibacy of the
ancient church, springing as it did from a gnosticised theology,
excluded, or did not in fact consist with, that clear, cordial,
efficacious, announcement of God's free mercy to a guflty world,
through the propitiating work of Christ, which is the characteristic
of the inspired Scriptures, and which it has pleased God to revive,
more or less fully, in the modern church. It is this heart-stirring
preaching of Christ (no imputation of employing the phrase in a
sectarian sense shall deter me from the just use of it) it is this
which makes Christianity a living doctrine; audit is this, of which
we find but faint and feeble indications, look where we may,
among the early writers. Between a dialectic and partisan
orthodoxy on the one hand, and on the other, a mystification of
the sacraments, and a stern, or fanatical asceticisin, the Gospel
nearly disappears. Those who have known what it is, with a
hand, warm with health, to take within their own the hand of a
corpse, know how the chfll ascends to the heart, and enters the
soul. Of this sort is the feeling with which, if the mind be
quickened by scriptural piety, it makes its first acquaintance with
the body of ancient Christianity.
A sample or two of some of those kinds of evidence of which
the present subject is susceptible, I shall now adduce ; such for
instance, as formal statements of belief — expositions of scripture —
panegyrics of distinguished individuals, and accidental expressions
of religious feeling. Of the first, we may take the following
' Short Summary of Christian Belief,' conveying the faith of the
accomplished Boethius, an orthodox, whether or not a christian
writer. This compendium,* after defining the athanasian doc-
* Brevis Fidei Christianae Complexio.

192 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
trine, as opposed to the several chief heresies of the times, goes
on with an historical enumeration of the leading facts of Chris
tianity, up to the moment of our Lord's ascension, and the com
mission given the Apostles to evangelize the world, and then adds,
' and whereas the human race, by the demerit derived to
it from the fault of the first sinner, had become pierced with
the darts of eternal punishment, nor was sufficient for its
own cure (or salvation) having lost it in its progenitor, He
(Christ) granted to it certain remedial sacraments, to the end
that it (the human race) might acknowledge the difference between
what it merited by nature, and what it received by gift of grace ;
and that, as nature could bring punishment only, grace, not
called grace if granted to merit, might furnish whatever appertains
to salvation.'
Such is the sum of the Gospel, according to Boethius, who adds
not a word more concerning the scheme of mercy. It may be
said that he affirms salvation to be by grace, not merit, but what
are the channels or the expressions of this grace of heaven ?
Nothing else than the remedial sacraments, in duly accepting
which from the hand of the priest, guflty men receive afl that
they have any need to think of; just as if the sacraments were
potent drugs, or chemical antidotes, infallibly dispersing the poi
son inherited from Adam ! But was that which animated the
labours of the Apostles, in traversing kingdoms, and in crossing
seas to proclaim the unsearchable riches of Christ, was it in fact —
to impart the sacraments, and to open, in every country, genuine
dispensaries of these panaceas for guflt and woe ? There may be
those who wifl not hesitate to reply in the affirmative, and who,
with the Pauflne epistles before them, wifl nevertheless profess
their belief that, to give men everywhere a ready access to the
two sacraments, was the object and completion of Paul's un
wearied labours. There are those who wifl say this. Thank God
there are multitudes who have read their bibles to better purpose,
and who, whfle happfly ignorant of ancient, understand something
of apostofic Christianity.
When a question is in progress concerning the alleged absence
of some important element of truth, there is a convenience, at
least, in referring to smafl, and yet comprehensive tracts, which

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

193

may soon be sifted. Now, with this view, we might take up
again the often-quoted Commonitorium of Vincent of Lerins. The
writer's intention, and a commendable one, plainly was, to afford
to a christian man the ready and certain means of answering, for
himself, the momentous question — ' Am I right in matters of
faith ? — am I on the road that leads to heaven ? ' And with this
view he offers rules, well condensed and carefully guarded, by
application of which, in every particular instance of doubt, a
christian may discriminate between catholic truth, and heretical
pravity, or, which is the same thing, novelty. But now the whole
of this criterion of doctrine turns upon the perfection of trini-
tarianism ; not a hint is dropped, anywhere, that there are other
principles essential to Christianity, after the nicene faith has been
duly secured. A reader of this tract is left to suppose that, if he
do but hold the doctrine of the trinity, ' uncorrupt and entire,'
nothing further is wanting to him : — he is then a christian — he is
within the pale of the Church, and as safe as all are on board a
ship which is destined to reach her port. An orthodoxy purely
logical, and which turns upon nicely trimmed phrases, came in
the place of the entire Christianity of the apostolic writings.
Vincent's catholicity has no more warmth, no more vitality in it
than Aristotle's Ethics ; nay, is really much less likely to gene
rate sentiments of virtue. There is not in this treatise a para
graph, or a sentence, animated by a reference to the rich mercy of
God in the Gospel. We find the honours of the Mother of God — •
the Theotocos, carefully affirmed ; but very little is said ofthe
glory of Christ as the Saviour of the world. Be it observed then,
that, while a dry and verbal trinitarianism would well enough hold
its place by the side of a gnosticized and ascetic ethical system,
the life-giving Gospel, speaking peace to the troubled conscience,
and supplying the motives of true holiness, in the doctrine of
justification by faith, this doctrine, which sets Christianity in
utter contrariety to every other scheme of religion, has never
consisted, can never consist, with any modification of the ascetic
system : and in fact, the evangelical glory faded from the view of
the ancient church at the moment when the oriental phflosophy
lodged itself within its bosom : from that time forward the condi
tion of the Church was such as might very aptly be described in

194 connexion OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
the language which Vincent himself applies to certain half
heretics — ' half dead, half alive, who have swallowed just such a
quantity of poison as neither kills them, nor may be digested, nor
compels them to die, nor suffers them to live.'
It must by no means be imagined that the early decay and the
disappearance, at length, of the evangelic energy from the Church,
is attributable solely, or primarily, to the ascetic doctrine, and to
the celibacy which it enjoined. To preclude any such suppo
sition, which, in being dispeUed, might seem to weaken my
argument, I must, in passing, advert to the easfly estabhshed fact,
that this decay had commenced before the time when the ascetic
practice had very perceptibly wrought its own effect upon the
opinions and sentiments of the christian body. By itself indeed
it was enough, when fully expanded, to exclude the vital element
of Christianity ; hut this element had already been edged off, by
little and little, from the theological system, under the operation
of several other causes ; one of the chief of which, plainly, was
the circumstance that Christianity, as early, at the latest, as the
middle of the second century, had^ fallen into the hands, and
thenceforward remained under the guardianship, of astute dialec
ticians, and wordy sophists, thoroughly trained in the intellectual
gymnastics of the grecian schools of phflosophy, and who, while
they found in the trinitarian doctrine a field well enough adapted
to the performance of the evolutions in which they excelled,
turned, with an instinctive distaste from the Gospel, the ideas
and sentiments connected with which were altogether unmanage
able, as the materials, either of logical, or of metaphysical
exercise. A pertinent exemplification of this order of things, in the
course of which whatever, in the christian scheme, was the most
nearly allied to the favourite subjects of pneumatology in its
various branches, came uppermost, while the evangelical element
was left to subside, is presented in Origen's four books, wtpl
apx'H''. This work, of which indeed we should speak more con
fidently if it had come down to us in the author's own language,
and which is known to have undergone some trimming under the
hand of Rufinus, to whom we are indebted for the latin version
now extant — this work professes to present a digest of christian

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 195
principles, as its title imports ; and, in fact, along with the ques
tionable opinions of the benign-minded writer, it sets forth, as
then understood, the orthodox faith, and moreover argues all
those topics of religion to which the dialectic and metaphysic
apparatus was really applicable.- — And there it stops ; — nothing —
literally nothing, beyond a mere phrase, does Origen find to say
about the scheme of reconciliation — the means, process, freeness,
sufficiency, or divine richness, of ' the redemption that is in
Christ.' Again and again we are told in this treatise, that, at the
last, all men will be dealt with, pro meritis. Let this he true;
but there is another truth, which the contrite reader of the New
Testament thinks he finds clearly affirmed there, but which no
reader of the ' De principiis' would ever surmise to have belonged
to the system which Origen was expounding.
The suppression of the Gospel, under the hand of the ancient
masters of logic and pneumatology, is however a subject foreign
to my present purpose ; and to which I have here adverted only
in order to anticipate an objection, as if I were attributing to
the ascetic doctrine an extent of influence which may be shown
to have arisen from more sources than one. Let then this be
understood. Another probable objection I must also exclude. In adducing
the polemic treatises of the ancient church, as affording instances
of the alleged decay of evangelic principles and feeling, it may be
said that the appeal is neither fair nor conclusive, inasmuch as
it does not allow for the peculiar position of the Church, as called
upon by the heresies of the times, most of which bore upon the
trinitarian doctrine, to insist almost exclusively upon subjects of
that abstruse class: whereas, it may be said, only let us look to
these same writers when they had laid aside their weapons, or to
those of their colleagues who stood off from the contest, and we
shall find that they understood, and personally rejoiced in, and
warmly promulgated evangelic principles, even as the Apostles
themselves. A counter-statement such as this, if it could be substantiated,
or even made to appear probably correct, ought to be at once
yielded to. Nothing can be more equitable than the general
principle on which it proceeds. But can it be made good ? In a

196 CONNEXION OF THE CBtrBATE WITH THE
word, is there any reason to believe that the great champions of
orthodoxy, or their less distinguished contemporaries, when
not engaged in repelling the assaults of heretics, thought and
spoke more, or with greater energy and vivacity, of the doctrines
of reconciliation, than may be gathered from the tenor of their
polemical writings ? With the hope of resolving this question, I
shall now move into a position, so to speak, alongside ofthe ancient
church — looking at it on those special occasions which, if any
could, must be held to be proper for displaying the real and intimate
feelings of individuals, and of the community they belonged to.
I proceed then to examine ancient Christianity in the concrete ;
that is to say, as embodied in the characters and sentiments of
eminent individuals ; and these individuals we take as their
portraits have been drawn by the most distinguished of their con
temporaries. When a christian writer undertakes to compose the
panegyric of a departed friend, or eminent teacher, whom he and
others consider to have reached as near to the point of perfec
tion as is ever permitted to humanity in the present state, it is
natural, nay inevitable, that, in arranging the materials of his
eulogy, he should so place foremost what, in his esteem, are
indeed the principal excellencies of the christian character, as
shall make manifest his own notions of the general scheme of
christian doctrine and practice : in other words, such a panegyric,
especially when elaborate, and when it has evidently been well
considered, may fairly be regarded as embodying the writer's con
fession of faith, dogmatic and ethical, only put in the concrete
form. I propose then to look into two or three of the principal
writers of the nicene age, either citing, or referring to, the most
remarkable of those eulogistic or funereal compositions with which
they abound ; only reminding the reader that these great writers
and preachers are never more at home, than whfle exhausting
their rhetorical powers upon themes of this particular description;
and I wifl ask at the outset, whether there is not a good proba
bility, on all grounds of philosophical, I mean genuine, reasoning,
that in this line of evidence, we shall catch what was indeed the
temper, character, and tendency of ancient Christianity ; our
immediate object being to inquire whether the divine richness,
and the distinguishing glory of Christianity, as the revelation of

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 197
God's mercy to a lost world, occupied the place due to it, in tha
view of the writers in question : and then, if the contrary appears
to be the fact, we shall have the opportunity of seeing whether
the foremost place which the gospel should have filled, is not in
fact usurped by those gnostic and ascetic principles of which celi
bacy was the core.
In this case, the question heing — Whether certain compositions,
many of them of considerable length, do, or do not, comprise
certain elements of truth, there are only two methods of pro
ceeding that can be accepted as conclusive, the one being that of
producing the entire tract, oration, or epistle ; and the other, that
of giving the studious reader such references as may facilitate his
obtaining satisfaction on the point for himself. It is manifest
that the former method is, in the present instance, altogether
inadmissible, inasmuch as it must swell this tract to the dimen
sions of a bulky volume. I must therefore content myself with
the latter, and, in adopting it, will express my earnest wish that
those who at this time may be preparing themselves to accept
ancient Christianity in the stead of apostolic Christianity, would
first, and before they come to so fatal a decision, give themselves
the pains to follow the clue I am putting into their hands, and
to read through and through the pieces to which I shall refer.
Can it be denied that this particular line of evidence is very
likely to expose (or say, exhibit) the true character of ancient
Christianity ? We are taking the Church by surprise, not unfairly
indeed, but just when it Is sitting for its portrait, blushing and
toying before some enamoured and favoured Zeuxis or Apelles.
Will an opponent choose to stake the credit of the nicene age on
this very ground ? I suppose not ; but I think that those who
have studied human nature, and who are accustomed to gene
ralize upon the materials of history, will grant that the use now
to be made of the patristic literature, is legitimate, and pertinent
to our argument.
I will begin with a very sober writer — a staunch ascetic indeed,
and such a one as Evagrius, the historian,* calls a ' living column,
holding forth the perfection of the monastic and contemplative
life.' I have already quoted him — Isidore of Pelusium, a bishop,
* Lib. i. cap. 15.
p

198

CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE

and the intimate friend of Chrysostom, as wefl as ofthe chief eccle
siastics of his time, and who, if any did so, understood well the
religious system, dogmatic and practical, of his age. He has
bequeathed to our times two thousand, one hundred, and eighty-
three epistles, or short commentaries and notes, upon subjects
of all kinds naturally coming within the range of a churchman
of that age. Punctifiously orthodox, and moreover professing
the doctrine of the atonement, or propitiatory work of Christ,
here and there, in unexceptionable terms ; as for instance in the
73d and 100th epistles of the fourth book ; and yet, much more
often writing like a mere stoic, or a platouist, whose style gfitters
¦with a few shreds of christian truth.
This Isidore* undertakes with much diffidence, and almost in
despair, the epitaphium of a defunct brother, whom he speaks of
as having reached the very acme of perfection, and with whose
various praises he fills a folio page : ' Better was he than all
praise, the temple of sobriety, the home of prudence, the tower
of manliness, the metropolis of righteousness, the magazine of phi
lanthropy, the sanctuary of gentleness ; and to say all in a word, the
treasury of all the virtues.' Then foUows the catalogue of these
virtues, the foremost being a tyrannous mastery of the bodily
appetites, yaarpoe, Kal rwc jxerd yaarepa TraQQy ; and the last, a
modest and retiring munificence toward the poor. The bare word
christian, does indeed once occur in this eulogy ; but it contains
not so much as a syllable besides, which would enable the reader
to guess that the subject of it was any other, or any better than
many a mahometan dervish has been ; not a word concerning a
humble reliance upon the merits of the Saviour ; not a word indi
cating it as the belief of this saint, that the best of men must,
at the last, stand with the most imperfect, as owing every thing
to sovereign mercy ; not a word savouring of the temper of the
Apostles : but on the contrary, the whole tends to convey and sup
port the opinion that nothing could be wanting to those who pursued
a spotless ascetic course, but just to drop the Qfrtrov, and then to
take their place among seraphs. Is this Christianity ? but it is the
common style of the ancient epitaphic eloquence. Not without
reluctance, I must again call the venerable Athanasius into court.
*Lib. ii. epist. 151.

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 199
And yet, who shall show cause why we should not bring evi
dence in illustration ofthe character of nicene Christianity from the
writings of Athanasius ? — if not, whereat all is any such evidence
to be found ? But if this be unexceptionable and pertinent testi
mony, then while we turn to this great man's polemic and dog
matic writings in order to find there the abstract Christianity of
the times, what better can we do than seek for the concrete — the
living and embodied christian excellence, in an elaborate and enco
miastic biography by the same hand, of one whom Athanasius
holds up to the Church as a pattern of christian perfection, and
who also was in fact so esteemed by the church catholic. We turn
then to the Life of St. Antony,* and in doing so, I must clear
the way for the inference I have in view. St. Antony, with his
picturesque infernal legions, has become the jest of modern
times, and is thought of much rather as an excellent subject for
flemish art, than in any more serious connexion. Or if his name
has occurred on the page of modern church history, it has been
hastily dismissed, with a word or two of philosophic scorn. But
this loose style of treating such subjects will not serve us any
longer ; inasmuch as we are now called upon to look narrowly into
many things which, awhile ago, might without damage have slept
on in the obscurity that so well befits their intrinsic merits.
This St. Antony then, the transcendental prince of the ancient
monkery, drew toward himself the wondering eyes of all Chris
tendom, from the east to the remotest west ; and he was allowed
to have touched the point of christian perfection as nearly as may
be thought possible to any in the present life. Multitudes, ani
mated by his example, rushed into the desert, and trod his
steps. His universal reputation obtained for him the title of the
' Patriarch of Monks.' If then we were to go no further, but,
resting upon the unquestionable rule, that whatever, in any age,
is the object of universal esteem and admiration, may be taken as
* Cave thinks the Life, now extant, to have been interpolated, containing
as it does ' nugatoria,' unworthy of so great a man. But on this rule of cri
ticism we must draw the pen through a third of the patristic pages. To
expunge the supposed ' nugatoria' from this biography would not essentially
mend the matter ; seeing that the fault we find with it is its deficiency in chris
tian sentiment. p 2

200

CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE

a sure indication of the taste and the opinions of that age, we
might, without any hazard of error, consider this same pattern
saint of the ancient church, as a fair sample of the feelings and
notions of that church. Who can except against the use of such
a criterion ? But this is not all. It might indeed so have been,
that although our ascetic hero had become the idol of the vulgar
of the christian community, he yet stood low in the esteem of
the weU-informed leaders ofthe Church; and, if not openly con
demned by them, yet was but coldly approved, and his extrava
gances pointed to in the way of caution. The fact is the very
reverse ; for in the first place, the great, and strong-minded Atha
nasius — the chief of the ' first three,' in the esteem of the modern
admirers of antiquity — charges himself with the task of giving
to the christian world this eminent example of more than human
sanctity, in the form of a very elaborate and carefully composed
memoir, occupying not less than fifty-four folio pages. Here then
is the portrait of a picked ancient christian (so called) at full
length, and from the pencil of the greatest master of the age.
May we not learn something of what ancient Christianity was,
in looking at this picture ? But we do not yet state the whole case ;
for we find each great writer of the nicene age, bowing in his
turn, and worshipping this same idol : — Nazianzen, Jerome,
Augustine, Chrysostom. The language of the latter is so perti
nent to my argument, that I cannot but cite it. ' And truly,
if you will visit the egyptian deserts, you will find there what is
better than any paradise : there you wfll find in human form,
innumerable quires of angels — tribes of martyrs, assemblages of
nuns ; in a word, the tyrannous empire of Satan brought to
nothing, and the kingdom of Christ shining forth ;'* and after much
more in the same strain, the eloquent preacher goes on to intro
duce St. Antony, ' whom Egypt has produced, blessed and great,'
after the Apostles ; and whose life, as related by Athanasius, is
said to hold forth all that the christian institute, ol tov Xpiarov vofioi,
demands. What more than this can we require, as authorizing
the course we are taking, in considering the fife of St. Antony, by
Athanasius, as a complete sample of ancient Christianity ?
I heartily wish that, with this very view, the entire piece were
• Hom. VIII. in Matth., tom. vii. pp. H-7, 14-9.

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201

perused by whoever is still admiring, and yet has a misgiving
concerning, the gay bubble — antiquity. The question is — Did
the ancient celibacy and its concomitants, consist with, and pro
mote, evangelic doctrine and feeling, or did it thoroughly exclude
and nullify both? And if this question be answered as I am sure
it must, we shall stfll by no means be compefled to deny sincerity,
and a species of devotion, and a measure of certain of the chris
tian virtues, to St. Antony, and to those like him. The memoir
before us may, in fact, be read with pleasure, and even edification,
taken for just so much as it is worth ; but as an exemplar ofthe
christian character, one may find as good, nay, some much better,
among the monkish records of the worst times of romanism. In
all these fifty-four pages, scarcely so much as one sentence meets
the eye of a kind to recall any notions or sentiments which are
distinctively christian. There is indeed an unimpeachable ortho
doxy : and a thoroughgoing submissiveness in regard to church
authority ; and there is a plenty of christianized sooffeeism, and
there is more than enough of demonology, and quite enough of
miracle ; but barely a word concerning the propitiatory work of
Christ ; barely a word indicating any personal feeling of the
ascetic's own need of that propitiation, as the ground of his hope.
Not a word of justification by faith ; not a word of the gracious
influence of the Spirit, in renewing and cleansing the heart ; not
a word responding to any of those signal passages of Scripture
which make the Gospel ' glad tidings' to guflty man. Drop a
very few phrases borrowed from the Scriptures, and substitute a
few drawn from the Koran, and then this memoir of St. Antony
by Athanasius, might serve, as to its temper, spirit, and substance,
nearly as well for a mahometan dervish, as for a christian saint.
The sort of piety herein exhibited has grown up under almost all
religious systems ; and samples of it, more or less refined, may
be discovered in every age and country where the religious instinct
has been powerfully developed.
Although the task would be far from a pleasing one, it might
at this time be a useful undertaking, to give the christian world
this Life of St. Antony, without retrenchment ; appending to it,
by way of foil, a memoir or two of the worthies and martyrs of our
english reformation. None could fail to discern, in a contrast so

202 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
violent as this, the vast, the immeasurable difference between that
apostolic Christianity which, by the divine mercy, was restored in
the sixteenth century, and that ancient Christianity — the sooffee
ism of the nicene age, which we are now called upon hy the Ox
ford Tract divines, to put in its room ! In a parallel such as I am
now supposing, there would be points of agreement, good and
bad : as, for instance, the ancient ascetics, and the modern re
formers, were alike pure in their orthodoxy ; both moreover
were encumbered and depressed by a demonological belief, gro
tesque enough : and let it be added, that the one, as well as the
other, held their faith as christians with a firmness which, when
occasions arose, carried them manfully through tortures and death.
But how vast is the difference still ! The one, in surrendering
themselves (as the church universal had done) to the old oriental
illusion, or, as we must call it, the gnostic principle, had lost
their hold of all but the slenderest remnants of that evangelic
system which, recovered by a return to the Scriptures, imparted
to the others — the reformers, a vitality, a force, a feefing, truly
apostolic. It is impossible not to feel, when the two sets of men
are placed in close comparison, that the one are mere drivellers,
doting insufferably about the merest trifles ; while the others,
whatever trifles they might at times strive to invest with impor
tance, nevertheless acted and spoke and wrote like men, and like
christians of the apostolic school. Is there a mind so infatuated
as that it could, whfle referring to the temper and character of
Paul as a standard, set by the side of it the puppet saint Antony,
and our Latimer or Ridley; and then choose and prefer the
former ? and yet we are now taught to think and speak of the
reformers either with a hesitating approval, or even as worthy of
our contempt, if not hatred, while we are enjoined to go back a
fourteen hundred years, and to gather our Christianity anew from
the lips of the idiot ascetics of the nicene age, or of the blind
doctors who worshipped them !*
But it will be at once curious and instructive to turn from the
life of St. Antony, by Athanasius, to the portrait of a far better
and wiser man, drawn by a greater master than even Athanasius ;
* One would gladly avoid making any allusion to a book so thoroughly
disgraceful to its editors as is Froude's Remains.

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

203

— -1 mean the portrait of this same Athanasius, as given to us
very elaborately by the eloquent Nazianzen. Why should we
hesitate to look into a formal panegyric of the best and greatest
man of the ancient church, as embodying, more or less distinctly,
every principal element of the religious system of the times ? It
is thus, in fact, that the orator, in this instance, regards the task
he has undertaken.* ' In praising Athanasius, I shall be praising
virtue itself; for in speaking of him, in whom were summed up
all the virtues, nay, rather, who now possesses all, I commend both
in one.' I must here pass over the exordium, presenting as it
does, a piously worded sample of the gnostic style of the age, and
which describes the blessedness of the ' genuine philosophy.'
Now let it be granted that, in the peculiar instance of this great
champion of orthodoxy, the merits of Athanasius, as such, should
be made the prominent subject of his encomium : yet would it
not seem as if some single sentence, or even solitary phrase, call
ing up the recollection of those truths which are the life of Chris
tianity, and its distinction, might well have found a place in the
orator's elaborate panegyric ? The personal virtues of the saint
are particularly enumerated, and various excellences of his cha
racter, beside his orthodoxy, are fervidly extolled : yet there d»
p»t meet the eye, in the whole composition, filling four and
twenty folio pages, hardly three words, which could suggest to an
uninformed reader the idea that Christianity comprised any ele
ment distinguishing it from the grecian philosophy — the doctrine
of the Trinity excepted. Few traces do we here find of the
Gospel ; and no allusion, ever so remote, to the doctrines which
are the main subjects of the Pauline epistles. Or to come nearer
home, never would it be surmised, from any thing occurring in
this oration, that there are principles of christian belief such as
those so clearly embodied in the 9th, 10th, 11th, 15th, 17th and
31st articles of the english church. Grant it, that we should not
demand, in a commemorative oration, a logical synopsis of doc
trine ; but may we not demand, from a christian preacher, and a
bishop, that, as often as he stands before the people he should
afford them the means of knowing that his own heart, as a harp
in tune, responds, in all its wires, to the harmony of heaven ?
* Nazianzen's twenty-first oration.

204 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
Can we imagine any one of the leaders ofthe english reformation
to have pronounced Nazianzen's 21st oration ? or would any one
of them have concluded any such harangue, had they pronounced
it, with an invocation of the dead Athanasius, now to look down
upon him with favour, and to aid him in the government of his
church ? No such incongruity, no such contradiction, can be
even imagined to have had place ; for every one feels that Nazi
anzen's Christianity, and the Christianity of Jewell, Cranmer,
Ridley, Latimer, Hooper, were two systems, the one excluding,
or forgetting, that which the other made the most account of ; —
the one dry, abstruse, extravagant, turgid, formal, vapid ; the
other, cordial, rich, efficacious ; and, if tinged with superstition,
yet immeasurably more concerned with the momentous realities,
than with the mere rites of piety.
It would be an error of serious consequence to suppose that
the zealous archbishop of Alexandria was no better a christian
than we might gather reasons for thinking him, from the language
of his panegyrist. His various writings forbid so comfortless a
supposition. Athanasius was not only better than Nazianzen's
portrait of him ; but better, and the same may be said in a thou
sand instances, than his own notions of Christianity (considered as
a system) would have made hira. While he and his contempo
raries took up the foreign gnostic element, the presence of which
deranged the entire scheme of the gospel economy, he and they,
or many of them, so retained their hold, personally, of its genuine
and vitalizing principles, as that they stfll drew sap enough from
the vine to adorn their branches with clusters of fruit. We may
properly denounce and reject a particular form of Christianity,
without being compelled to unchristianize those who have known
nothing better.
But I must return a moment to Nazianzen. It might be
thought, and with some appearance of reason, that on so special
an occasion as the one above referred to, and when he had to hold
up to popular admiration the great champion of orthodoxy, the
one prominent subject, the doctrine of the Trinity, would naturally
exclude other topics of theoretic or practical theology. Let it be
granted then : and on this supposition, we can do no better than
turn from the panegyric of Athanasius, to that of Cyprian. In

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 205
this instance at least, the remoteness of the subject from any
local, temporary, ecclesiastical, or theological interest, may fairly
be held to have exempted the orator from any such preoccupation
of mind, as might have precluded the full and spontaneous ex
pression of his feelings as a christian. The eulogium of the mar
tyr of Carthage, is surely open ground ; and in this instance we
shall not fail to discover those features of Christianity which were
foremost in the view of the speaker.
Of what sort then is this florid oration ?* Not a whit more
evangelical than the one already referred to. Utterly devoid is it
of those notions and modes of feeling which, in the strictest and
most proper sense, are christian. A dry, punctilious orthodoxy,
with more than a spice of offensive superstition, are its charac
teristics : there is indeed, what we may find elsewhere, and
among heathen philosophers, a high contempt of the world, and
of its pomps, luxuries, and vanities; but there is not a beam of
that splendour — the radiance of heaven, which, in the Scriptures
themselves, gladdens the hearts of the contrite. If the ten lines
concerning Christ, the ' protomartyr,' and one other short sentence,
may be urged in mitigation of this averment, let them be pro
duced ; but they amount only to a profession which no christian
could avoid making ; and such a turn is given to the allusion to the
sufferings of Christ as serves to ally the doctrine of the atone
ment with the dim theology of the times. ' Many things there
are indeed, which tend to lead us into the better way ; and many
which train us in virtue, such as reason, law, the Prophets, the
Apostles, and even the sufferings of Christ, the protomartyr, who
ascended the cross, leading me thither, that he might attach to
it my sin, and triumph over the serpent, and sanctify the tree, and
vanquish pleasure, and rescue Adam, and restore the fallen image
(of God in man).'
Let however this profession pass for as much as it can be worth,
conjoined with what follows ; and I do not see another line that
is equally, or in any proper sense, evangelic. But what is it
that foflows? such things as these — a love story (whence derived
does not appear) but the purport of which is, that Cyprian, be
fore his conversion, being desperately enamoured of a beautiful
* The 18 th oration.

206

CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE

nun, had pursued her so importunately as to reduce her almost
to despair. In this terrible extremity, to whom should she have
recourse, but to the blessed Mary, the queen and patroness of
virgins : not indeed as if forgetting God, and her Saviour — inl
Toy 6c6y mra0£u-y£(; but as the readiest and surest means of ob
taining immediate assistance. ' She supplicated the Virgin Mary,
iKBTsvovaa, beseeching her to afford aid to a virgin in peril ; and,
by the medicine of fasting and prostrations on the bare earth, she
furthered her purpose, partly that by these means she might tar
nish those charms which were the cause of her trouble, and so
remove fuel from the flame ; and partly that by her sufferings and
humfliations she might propitiate God : for indeed by nothing is
God so well pleased, dcpaTrsverai, as by the sufferings of the body,
and it is to tears that he is wont to render his compassion.'
This is ' antiquity ;' this is • catholic teaching ;' this is that ' per
fect form of our religion,' which, as we are now told, was at length
brought out, after a three hundred years' preparation, or concoc
tion of its rude elements : this is the venerable system which we
are to put in the place of the Christianity of the reformers I Many
who, seduced by fair words, and a very partial, and therefore
fallacious exhibition of what ancient Christianity really was, are
giving in their submission to what is called Catholicism, would be
horror-stricken did they fully know what this Catholicism actually
includes. If it should be said that passages such as the above are but
spots on the disk of the sun, and need be taken no account of,
our part then wfll be, in the place of every single quotation, to
produce twenty ; and all of the same dark colour. Is it possible
that the Gospel, such as the Apostles gave it to the world, should
consist with the practice of praying to the Virgin Mary ? No ; if
there be any consistency in religious principles. Nor, in fact,
did these irreconcilable elements cohere : the worse presently
expelled the better, and brought with it every kindred supersti
tion : — as for instance — After the executioner had done his office,
says our orator, the body (of Cyprian) strange to say, was not to
be found, dfayee rjy : the ' treasure had however been taken care of
by a pious lady, who long concealed it, whether it were merely
that it pleased God thus to honour and reward her piety ; or

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

207

whether to prove us, and to try if the deprivation of the sacred
relics would really distress us. However this might be, at length
private advantage was made to yield to the public welfare, and
the God of the martyrs brought the sacred remains to light ! What
honours have not been granted to women !' . . . Then follow the
innumerable miracles of healing effected by this holy dust I all
which those were ready to attest, who had made proof of their
efficacy !
To translate at length the nauseous bombast of Nazianzen in
this, and similar instances, is a task I must decline : — let those
who are hovering between Christianity, and ' catholic antiquity,
read it for themselves ; or let the Oxford Tract divines give to the
english public, whole and entire, the festival orations of the two
Gregorys, and of Chrysostom. All would then know, fairly and
at once, the extent to which they will have to go in accepting the
latter, and relinquishing the former.
Fitly, in this instance, as in others, Nazianzen includes, in his
peroration, a devout prayer to the glorified martyr. ' And thou,
from thy seat, look down upon us propitiously  aiding us in
the government of the flock.' That this was not a rhetorical
flourish appears, not only from the seriousness and frequency of
simflar invocations, but from a formal profession which the speaker,
in the funeral oration for his father, makes of his opinion on this
point of ' catholic belief.'* 'I am persuaded,' says Nazianzen,
' that our father's intercession now avails us more than his teaching
did while present with us in the body ; now that he has got near
to God, has shaken off the fetters of the body, and, freed from
the mud of earth, approaches, naked, the naked and most pure
Mind.' It might be well to follow this same father through his pane
gyric orations. Let the diligent inquirer do so ; and if he finds,
here and there, expressions fitting a christian preacher, consider
always with what ingredients these shining fragments are mingled.
It may however seem probable that, although Nazianzen's
florid eloquence might conceal the better and purer elements of
Cyprian's christian character, these would not fail to make their
appearance if we could look into some memoir of the martyr,
* 19th oration.

208

CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE

composed by a contemporary, and one therefore, who was nearer,
by a century, to the apostofic age. Such an opportunity is then
actuafly afforded to us in the Life of St. Cyprian, as written by
his own deacon, his constant attendant and friend, Pontius.*
Be it that Nazianzen plays the part of the mere orator, ambitious
to shine, and looking at his object through the haze of time, and
the mists of superstition : but Pontius was the disciple and inti
mate companion of the martyr, and the sharer of his perils.
What materials then does this authentic record present, pertinent
to our argument ? — we find in it the same absolute destitution of
evangelic sentiments, and the same ascetic feeling. The deacon
commences his portrait of his master precisely in the style that
characterizes the fathers, from Tertullian downwards. ' The pre
servation of continence, and the treading under foot the concupis
cence of the flesh by a robust and thorough sanctity,' was, we are
told, the prime rudiment of Cyprian's Christianity, and the most
direct means, in his esteem, of rendering his bosom the fit recep
tacle of truth ! The modern reader should be on his guard against
the error of attaching, either a protestant or a classical sense, to
the terms which meet us in this instance, and on every page of
ecclesiastical literature ; and which, as there employed, carry
always a technical sense : as for instance, in this place, sancti-
monia is not holiness, either in an apostolic, or a modern sense of
the term ; but the sanctimoniousness, or factitious purity of the
ascetic life : the concupiscentia carnis is the abstract affection
proper to our nature, not its irregular or depraved excesses : the
continentia is not purity of heart and manners, but celibacy ; and
the pectus idoneum is such a preparation of the animal nature, as,
according to the gnostic notion, was the prerequisite of afl corre
spondence with the Supreme Being. The rest of this Life of Cy
prian is occupied with the martyr's virtues, his charity, dfligence,
courage, contempt of the world, and so forth ; — virtues springing
from motives far more powerful than any that had been known to
heathen phflosophy, and reaching a practical extent in proportion,
and such as heathenism had never dreamed of. What stoics have
ever acted as Cyprian did during the pestilence at Carthage ?
what stoic has ever died as he did? Nevertheless, Cyprian's virtue
* Vita S. C. Cyp. prefixed to his works.

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

209

would be much better described as a stoicism purified and ani
mated, than as Christianity embodied. None could fafl to feel
powerfully the vast difference between apostolic (and protestant)
christian sentiment on the one hand, and gnosticised ancient
Christianity on the other, who would do themselves the justice
to read Pontius's Life of Cyprian, by the side of any me
moir of the martyr bishops of the english reformation. Was
not Cyprian then a good man, and a christian too ? Who can
doubt it? but yet not nearly so well taught a christian, as have
been scores of romanist bishops and monks, of the darkest ages.
If therefore we choose to reject the reformers as our masters in
theology, it were far better to stop short near at hand, in the
church of Rome, where we may find spirituality, as well as fer
vour, and a more full expansion of doctrines ; than to go up to
the nicene, or the Cyprianie age, where all is dim and unformed.
This, I am persuaded, wfll be felt and frankly acknowledged by
all open to conviction, who, laying aside their terror of popery,
will deliberately and calmly compare the best romish writers
with the best nicene, or ante-nicene fathers. It may be very true
that a return to romanism, on the part of the english church,
would involve some very awkward political consequences, which
are not involved in a return to ancient Christianity, and which we
might bring about, as it were, silently and unobserved. But if,
political and ecclesiastical considerations apart, we were to enter
tain the question of such a proposed change, on purely religious
grounds, I verily believe that we should see reason enough for
accepting the former alternative, rather than the latter.
I do not suppose that any champion of the fathers, calling him
self a protestant — any one who yet holds by the articles and
homilies of the english church, wfll bring forward a writer like
Gregory Nyssen, with the view of counteracting the impression
made by the passages referred to above. All know that, between
Nyssen's Christianity and popery, the distinction, if any, is of the
nicest kind — hard to catch, and harder to keep one's hold of. I
leave him therefore, much as my argument might be served by
adducing the evidence he furnishes of the errors of his times.
The temper, as well as the style and method of the latin theo
logians, differs much from that which distinguishes the writers of

210 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
the eastern and alexandrian churches. And yet, notwithstanding
the contrast presented by the richness, the exuberance, the refine
ment and suhtilty, and the theoretic tendency of the latter, and
the severity and practical directness of the former, the sovereign
influence of the system to which the one as well as the other had
bowed, is everywhere apparent. In the place of the Gospel, as
preached by the Apostles, and ' worthy of all acceptation,' and
equally necessary for all, the Church had adopted a transcendental
mysticism, the honours and benefits of which were offered to a
very few ; while to the many, instead of either the free Gospel,
or the prerogatives of the upper species of virtue, the Church
offered its sacraments, as tangible conveyances of just so much
grace as might secure salvation to those whose faith and virtue
were of a vulgar stamp.
In whatever respects Ambrose of Milan may differ from the
Gregorys, or from Chrysostom, he is thoroughly in accordance
with them, so far as the above general description goes : — they
indeed may incline toward the mild, abstracted, and imaginative
sooffeeism, — or platonism ; while he, and the latins, less given to
meditation, and more conversant with the business of life, leaned
towards the stern and stoical system : they, speaking of Christianity
as a scheme oi philosophy (the term constantly employed by the
greek fathers) these calling it a system oi discipline. The general
product however of the two institutes was the same, and bothalike
dimmed, or removed from its place, the glory of the Gospel.
To the instances which I have adduced above, it may perhaps
be objected that the occasions on which the formal orations I
have quoted were uttered, were not the most favourable for
bringing forth the intimate and personal sentiments of the
speakers, as christians : and that, just on these annual festivals,
the temptation to make a show of sparkling rhetoric overcame the
better feelings of the preacher. — Be it so. Let us then take up
an instance in which, if in any that is conceivable, a preacher
may be supposed to have had his best and most characteristic
christian sentiments so powerfully wrought upon, as to carry him
far above the range of the inferior motives of intellectual ambition.
When is it that our modern pulpit orators are seen, if not to the
greatest advantage as orators, yet to the greatest as men, per-

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 211
sonally imbued with the quickening motives, and animated by
the hopes of the Gospel ? Surely it is, when the fountains of
grief having been broken up by some sudden bereavement, what
ever, in their ordinary style, may have been formal or artificial, or
perfunctory, is thoroughly dispelled by the agony of the heart ;
and when the energies of faith impart life and power to every
word that is uttered. We may then, on the ground of this
general rule, very properly make our way into the crowded epis
copal church at Milan, at the solemn hour when the holy father —
Ambrose, smitten with the keenest shaft of sorrow, and yet com
pressing and commanding his tumultuous grief, harangues the
multitude, a few days only after the death of his beloved brother,
Satyrus. Now, surely, if at any time, we shall hear the christian,
freely uttering christian sentiments ; and now, if ever, in the
eulogistic enumeration of the departed saint's virtues, we shall
see what ancient Christianity was in the concrete, and when the
most fully developed.
Of the two orations pronounced on this mournful occasion,
the second, on the Faith of the Resurrection, we may pass by,
noticing only the proof it furnishes of that coldness of the affec
tions, and mere intellectuality, which has ever been the fruit of
the ascetic system : nothing can be more chilling than this dis
course, considered in reference to the circumstances which attended
its delivery. The first oration, pronounced in the great church,
whither the corpse of Satyrus had been carried, presents those
perpetual antitheses, and smart turns intended to catch the ear of
the vulgar, which belong rather to the bad taste of the times, than
to the mind of the individual speaker ; they indicate, however, the
same intellectual frigidity, and that thoroughly sophisticated
sentiment which the religious system had brought in with it.
Ambrose professes the tenderest affection to have subsisted
between himself and his deceased brother, who had been his
solace, stay, and adviser, amid the cares and labours of his public
life. Natural affection had, in this instance, only cemented the
more intimately an attachment which the amiable and exalted
qualities of Satyrus must alone have rendered fervent and devoted.
This beloved brother, after having narrowly escaped from ship
wreck, was attacked, soon after his return to Italy, with an acute

212 CONNEXION OP THE CELIBATE WITH THE
disorder, which snatched him from the fondness of his family and
friends, and from the public service. Alas ! as it appeared from
the event, he had asked only of ' St. Laurence the martyr,' — what
had indeed been granted to his prayers — a safe passage ! Would
that he had prayed also for length of years ! Let not the protes
tant reader, who may lately have heard Ambrose named as one
of the great three, to whom we are to look for our idea of finished
Christianity, let him not be startled at this praying to a saint.
Ambrose in the west, as well as Nazianzen, Nyssen, Chrysostom,
in the east, and others, too many to name, had convinced himself
that no prayers were so well expedited on high, as those which
were presented by a saint and martyr already in the skies ! In
fact, a judicious choice as to the ' patrocinium,' was the main point
in the business of prayer. These matters were, however, regulated
by a certain propriety, and conventional usage — may we say,
etiquette : it was not on every sort of occasion that the Virgin was
to be troubled with the wants and wishes of mortals : each saint
had come, indeed, to have his department ; and each was applied
to in his particular line. In connexion with subjects such as this
how can one be serious ? unless indeed considerations are admitted
that agitate the mind with emotions of indignation and disgust.
It was however a consolation to Ambrose, in the loss of his
brother, that he had lived to return to Milan, where the sacred
dust would be at all times accessible, affording to him means of
devotion of no ordinary value — ' habeo sepulcrum,' says he,
' super quod jaceam, et commendabiliorem Deo futurum esse me
credam, quod supra sancti corporis ossa requiescam.' Ambrose
was therefore a great gainer by the death of his brother ; for in
place of his mere bodily presence, as a living coadjutor, he had
the justifying merits of his bones, and the benefit of his inter
cession in heaven I Ungracious task indeed is it to adduce these
instances of blasphemous superstition, as attaching to a name
like that of Ambrose ; but what choice is left us, when, as now,
the christian community, little suspecting what is implied in the
advice, are enjoined to take their faith and practice from the
divines of the nicene age, and from Ambrose, Athanasius, and
Basil, especially ?
The weeping orator having spent his verbose grief a little.

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 2l3
returns upon his path, in order to set before the people — the plebs
sancta, this exemplar of virtue, or compendium of christian graces.
It is certain therefore that this highly finished portrait of one so
well known to him, and so fondly admired, will contain whatever
was, in the preacher's opinion, most important to the christian
character : — the instance is every thing we could wish for, con
sidered as a criterion of ancient Christianity, in the concrete.
Without a play upon words, it may properly be called an experi-
mentum crucis. We proceed then to analyze this most conclusive
record. What were the virtues and graces of Satyrus — a perfect
christian after the nicene model ?
First comes his reverential regard to the rites of religion : of
which a striking instance is afforded. The vessel in which
Satyrus was returning to Italy having got on the rocks, he, not
as yet initiated in the higher mysteries, and not regenerated, yet
not fearing death, but fearing lest he should die without them,
had recourse to those on board who had in their custody the con
secrated elements (ordinarily carried, in a journey, as a safeguard
against all perils) and having obtained them, wrapped them in
a stole, or sacrificial kerchief, which he tied about his neck ; and
thus armed in any event, fearlessly threw himself into the sea :
itaque his se tectum atque munitum satis credens, alia auxilia non
desideravit. A good beginning, is it not ? The modern admirers
of antiquity seem to be offended when they are accused of 'putting
the sacraments in the place of the Saviour;' but now they are
turning us over to masters of divinity who recommend what, if it
do not imply some such substitution, is altogether unintelligible.
Thrust this same incident into the memoirs of any one of the
insulted fathers of the english reformation: wfll it suit the con
nexion, and consist with the spirit and doctrine of the context? It
would not; and those are miserably betraying the english church,
who, under cover of a mystification of plain and untoward facts,
are striving to put the debased Christianity of Ambrose, Jerome,
and Basfl, in the place of the Gospel recovered by its founders.
But we proceed with the virtues of Satyrus, the list of which
includes fortitude, and pious gratitude, Denique primus servatus
ex undis, et in portum terrenae stationis evectus, prcesulem suum,
cui se crediderat, recognovit ; — ^gratitude, the expression of which
Q

214

CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE W[TH THE

gave evidence of, and augmented his faith, and a faith such as had
enabled him to confide almost as calmly in the efficacy of the con
secrated elements tied about his neck, as he could have done had
they actually passed into his stomach ! Next comes an instance
of his cautious regard to legitimate church authority. Then, the
childlike simplicity of his disposition and manner, and his sin
gular modesty — pudor, and purity, in speech as well as deport
ment and person. And such an admirer of chastity was he, and
yet so abhorrent of ostentation, that, ' when urged by his family
to marry, having resolved to maintain his purity, he rather dis
sembled his purpose, than professed his determination. Who
then shall not admire a man who, not wanting in magnanimity
(sense of distinction) and standing as he did between a sister
professing virginity, and a brother of high rank in the Church,
yet affected not the honours of either condition, while himself
replete with the virtues of both ?'
The frugality and temperance of Satyrus kept pace with his
chastity; all which were cemented by the cardinal virtue justice,
and a regard to the claims of all, whether those claims were of
the definite or indefinite class, and not least those of the poor.
Such is this portrait ; and the preacher, having satisfied his own
conception of the congeries of christian virtues, indulges again in
the sorrow which yet he reproves, and concludes by commending
the ' innocent soul,' as an offering to God. Innocent — that is to
say, one of those whom Ambrose, in another place,* says it was
easier to find, than any who had duly practised penitence.
But not one line does this funereal panegyric contain breathing
an evangelic feeling, or adverting to the great principles of the
Gospel ! It would be wrong to speak of this elaborate composition
as defective, or ambiguous, or erroneous, in relation to the leading
truths of Christianity ; for it touches them not even in the remotest
manner. As well say that the Phaedo of Plato is wanting in evan
gelic perspicuity, or that Cicero, De natura deorum, does not fully
express the doctrine of the thirty-nine articles. Cicero, Seneca,
Epictetus, any one we may choose to name, is as evangelic as
Ambrose, so far as the composition before us goes. Nor is
the contrast more violent between the writings of heathen
* De Pcenitentia, lib. ii. cap. 10.

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

215

moraUsts, and the epistles of Paul, than that which offers itself,
when by the side of the inspired writings we place this nicene
oration. The inference I draw from so signal an instance would be in
no degree invalidated by adducing from the same writer, passages
of an evangelic aspect. Such passages would either come under
the designation of dry dogmatic statements ; or they would
express those occasional outbursts of a better feeling which enable
us yet to believe that these writers were personally better than
their system. But then the romanist writers, even those of the
darkest times, may readily be supplied with a similar apology.
And how much more full and satisfactory is such an apology
in the instance of more modern romanists, as for example, those
of the Port Royal school I Whatever may be the demerits of
romanism, as compared with nicene Christianity, it is not to be
denied that, in fervour and evangelic feeling too, its best writers
are decidedly superior to those of the earlier time. In fact, it
would be extremely difficult to collect, anywhere, from those
distinctively called — the Fathers, a mass of christian sentiment,
such as might be brought together, with the greatest ease, from
the devotional and practical works of the middle and later ages.
It would be perfectly safe to accept a challenge to adduce three
passages from romanist authors, for every one from the nicene
fathers such as would satisfy a modern protestant ear.
Or the comparison might be instituted on a rather different
ground, as for example, on that of the presence or absence of
expressions, utterly offensive to every sound christian feeling :
and which it is very hard to reconcile with the supposition of
genuine piety in the writer. Now it must be confessed that
many things meet the eye on the pages of the great writers of the
nicene age, of a kind that finds no parallels in accredited romanist
writers. Altogether, those proprieties, both moral and religious,
which modern refinement demands — and- properly demands, are
far better observed by the later, than they were by the earlier
authors : and especially wfll this appear to be true, if we confine
ourselves to those ofthe highest reputation, respectively. None,
I think, will attempt to deny this advantage, as belonging to the
romish church, in regard to the observance of the moral decencies
a 2

216 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
of style, or subject ; nor do I see that it can be refused in relation
to theological proprieties : as for instance. —
Ephrem the Syrian, a highly-esteemed writer of the nicene
school, and one who, ascetic as he is, may be read with pleasure
and advantage by those who are better taught than himself, and
who know how to supply his deplorable deficiencies in evangelic
principle, gives us a story to the following effect. Abraham the
hermit, his own intimate friend, had had consigned to his care in
the wflderness (alas the luckless girl!) an orphan niece, the heiress
of an ample fortune, then in her seventh year, whom her relatives
(such were the notions ofthe times) conveniently disposed of by
incarcerating her in a cell, destitute of every comfort, adjoining
that of the hermit. In this den the poor girl's hours were occu
pied in the performance of menial offices for her uncle, and in the
routine of penance and devotion. It was her misfortune, more
over, to be very handsome, so the legend runs. Seen and seduced
by a monk, who on pretence of spiritual perplexity, frequented
the holy seclusion, she abandoned at once her profession, her
prison, and her keeper ; who, after awhfle, discovers her shame,
and the place of her sojourn ; whither he follows her in disguise,
acting a part the most foreign to his habits. At last discovering
himself to the fair runaway, he brings her to tears and shame,
and among the inducements by means of which he labours to
restore her to virtue, and to the ascetic life, he says, with the view
of obviating her despair of forgiveness, ' Mary — I will be answer
able for thee before God in the day of judgment. — I will repent
for thee on account of this course of sin. — Upon me be thy sin,
my child ; of my hands shall God require this thy sin ; only
listen to me, and return with me to thy place.'*
It is only the inferior class of romanist writers who, in any such
way, are found to outrage all propriety. How miserably must
those have lost the consciousness of their own position, as sinners,
needing mercy, who could have fallen into the habit of making
themselves responsible for the sins of others I
Until of late, in perusing the fathers, we have been accustomed
to take very little, or no account, of flagrant impieties such as this :
and passing them perhaps with a smfle, have simply said — ' Such
'^ Ephre.m. p. 231. Oxford Edition.

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 217
was the style of the times.' But we must no longer allow our
selves this sort of easy philosophic indifference, for the nicene
fathers, with their superstitions and their sooffeeism, are now to
be forced upon the english church, in the room of her wise, holy,
manly, and christian-like founders.
Now it will not do slightingly to say, — ' Oh, the fathers had
their blemishes, no doubt, and so have the best writers, of the best
ages ; and we leave these minor imperfections where we find them :
and we think the bringing them forward is an instance of ill
directed industry.' This mode of disposing of the difficulty will
not meet the occasion. — A blemish may either be a spot or stain,
tarnishing the surface of a solid and precious substance ; or it may
be a corroded speck, or a worn point, or edge, in the mere gilding
that hides a worthless material : a blemish of the former sort may
be removed, with equal ease and advantage to the body to which
it has attached : but to rub and scour an attenuated gilding,
what is it but to reveal, at every stroke, the vile brass, or wood,
or clay, to which we had fondly attributed a hundred times its
intrinsic value?
The lives, labours, and writings of our english reformers, are
disfigured by many blemishes ; grant it. But it is also true that,
in making ourselves acquainted with them, our own minds being
imbued with biblical sentiments, we become more and more
impressed with the conviction of their solid excellence : — they
were men of God, and, taught as they were from above, whatever
may have been their faults, they understood and professed what
is the most momentous in the christian system. The result of an
equally thorough examination of the nicene fathers, and under
the guidance of genuine principles, wfll be, if not of an opposite,
yet of a very different kind; and we shall be compelled to confess
that those vital elements of truth which the one set of men had
recovered, under the divine guidance, from the Scriptures, the
other set did but dimly discern, and faintly hold, and were conti
nually surrendering, for a mere phantom of piety.
Whenever we look at ancient christianitj' in the concrete, or as
embodied in the lives, sentiments, and practices of those who
enjoyed the highest reputation for sanctity, we find, ever and
again, the same ingredients, and these placed nearly in the same

218

CONNEXION OF IHE CELIBATE WITH THE

order ; and with the same utter want of evangelic feeling.— There
is foremost, the high-wrought ascetic virtue, and its indispensable
condition — virginity; or, what we may fairiy call, an illuminated
stoicism : then follow the virtues which best harmonize with the
ascetic life, and the motives of which are drawn, with much effect,
from the christian doctrine of another life. The accessories —
sometimes the leading excellences of this order of piety, were, a
prostrate submission to church authority, and such a regard to the
sacraments, especially to the holy eucharist, as is not surpassed, a
whit, by the boldest professors of transubstantiation. This descrip
tion applies, with hardly a shade of difference, to all instances in
tervening between the times of Tertullian, and the age of Gregory I.
To afford a digested summary of the style of expounding Scrip
ture by the nicene writers, and such as should fairly represent it,
seems altogether impracticable ; and especially because nothing
short of lengthened quotations would enable the reader to judge
the whole question. A sample or two may be offered, merely in
illustration of what is meant by the broad assertion — That the
notions universally entertained of religious celibacy, and of its
high merits and importance, had the effect of dislodging the most
momentous truths of the christian system : as thus. —
I suppose that, in expounding the parable of the ten virgins
most modern and protestant writers have considered the solemn
meaning it conveys as intended for the benefit of christians at
large ; and by no means as restricted to the members of a spiritual
aristocracy. Moreover, it has, I think, been generaUy understood,
that our Lord, by ' the ofl in the lamp,' meant that principle of
genuine piety which distinguishes his true followers from mere
pretenders, or professors; so that the general purport of the
parable is to incite us to make serious inquiry into the state of
our hearts, as ' alive to God,' or not. But it is in no such
manner that the illustrious Chrysostom understands, or interprets,
the allegory : let us hear him.*
' What ! hast thou not understood from the instance of the ten
virgins in the Gospel, how that those who, although they were
proficients in virginity, yet not possessing the (virtue of) alms
giving, were excluded from the nuptial banquet ?  Truly
* nepl (HeTacoios, Hom. III. tom. ii. p. 348.

SCHEME OF SALVATION.

219

I am ashamed and blush and weep when I hear of the foolish
virgin. When I hear the very name I blush to think of one who,
after she had reached such a point of virtue, after she had gone
through the training of virginity, after she had thus winged the
body aloft toward heaven, after she had contended for the prize
with the powers on high (the angels), after she had undergone
the toil, and had trodden under foot the fires of pleasure, to hear
such a one named, and justly named, a fool, because that, after
having achieved the greater labours (of virtue) she should be
wanting in the less I . . . . Now the fire (of the lamps) is — Vir
ginity, and the oil is Almsgiving. And in like manner as the
flame, unless supplied with a stream of ofl, disappears, so virginity,
unless it have almsgiving, is extinguished  But now who
are the venders of this oil ? — The poor who, for receiving alms, sit
about the doors of the church. And for how much is it to be
bought ? — for what you will. I set no price .upon it, lest you
should allege your poverty. For so much as you have, make
this purchase. Hast thou a penny? — purchase heaven, ayopaaoy
TOV oupavoi' : not indeed as if heaven were cheap; but the Master
is indulgent. Hast thou not even a penny ? give a cup of cold
water, for he hath said, &c. . . . Heaven is on sale and in the mar
ket, and yet we mind it not I Give a crust, and take hack paradise ;
give the least, and receive the greatest ; give the perishable, receive
the imperishable ; give the corruptible, receive the incorruptible.
If there were a fair, and plenty of provisions to be had, at the
vilest rate — afl to be bought for a song, would ye not realize
your means, and postpone other business, and secure to yourselves
a share in such dealing ? Where then things corruptible are in view
do ye show such diligence, and where the incorruptible, such
sluggishness and such proneness to fall behind ? Give to the
needy, so that, even if thou sayest nothing for thyself, a thousand
tongues may speak in thy behalf; thy charities standing up and
pleading for thee. Alms are the redemption of the soul, Xvrpov
^l/vxrJQ iartv iXerjfioavvi]. And in like manner as there, are set
vases of water at the church gates for washing the hands ; so are
beggars sitting there, that thou mayest (by their means) wash the
hands of thy soul. Hast thou washed thy palpable hands in water?
wash the hands of thy soul in almsgiving.'

220 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WIIH THE
The preacher then makes an allusion, such as no protestant
would disallow, to the context, 'inasmuch as ye did it,' &c. : and
then proceeds. ' My brethren, almsgiving is a great matter. Let
us embrace it ; nothing is equal to it, ^e ohSev I'aoy, for it is
sufficient for the wiping out of whatever sins' (Chrysostom's
expression, kol aXXag djuapriae, must carry this sense, or some
thing like it) ' and for warding off condemnation. Even if thou
standest speechless, it shall plead for thee ; rather I should say,
there is no need of words, to him who has gained the mouths of
the poor. Give what thou hast ... for the reward is according to
intention, not of constraint, . . . But 1 return to the virgins.' . . .
What follows, although the citation be long, is too pertinent to
our present purpose to be omitted.
' But what is it which, after so many labours, these (foolish)
virgins hear ? — I know you not ! which is nothing less than to say
that virginity, vast treasure as it is, may be useless ! Think of
them (the foolish virgins) as shut out, after undergoing such
labours, after reining in incontinence, after running a course of
rivalry with the celestial orders, after spurning the interests of
the present life, after sustaining the scorching heat, tov Kavawva
Toy ueyav, after having leapt the bound (in the gymnasium) after
having winged their way from earth to heaven, after they had not
broken the seal of the body (a phrase of much significance) and
had obtained possession ofthe form of virginity (the eternal idea of
divine purity) after having wrestled with angels, after trampling
upon the imperative impulses ofthe body, after forgetting nature,
after reaching, in the body, the perfections of the disembodied
state, after having won, and held, the vast and unconquerable
possession of virginity, after all this, then they hear — Depart
from me, I know you not !
' Now you will not imagine that I make smafl account of
virginity, great as it is. So great is it indeed, that none of the
ancients were able to hold to it. For this reason is it a great grace
(that has come to us) because what was the most formidable in
the view of the Prophets and the ancients, has become to us an
easy matter; so that the things which to them were the heaviest
and most extreme, namely virginity, and the contempt of death,
are now thought nothing of (as difficult) even by mere giris. So

SCHEME OF SALV,\TION. 221
difficult then was virginity esteemed, that none attempted to prac
tise it. Noah, a just man, and one to whom God himself bore
witness, nevertheless cohabited with a wife ! as did also Abraham,
and Isaac, the heirs ofthe promise. Joseph, that pattern of chas
tity, yet cohabited with a wife ! A heavy thing indeed was the pro
fession of virginity ; nor until that time did virginity become effec
tive when the flower of virginity had blossomed (an allusion to our
Lord's birth of a Virgin) and so it was that none of the ancients
(none living before the birth of Christ) were able to addict them
selves to the ascetic practice of virginity.
' A great matter indeed it is to rein the body. Paint to me now
the figure of this virtue, and learn of what magnitude it is ; seeing
that it is waging a warfare which knows no truce, even for a day,
a warfare worse than that with barbarians ; for the contests we
carry on with those have some interval, some truces ; if now the
savage hordes assail us, now again they desist, and there is some
thing of order, and an observance of seasons, adhered to. But the
warfare of virginity hath no quiet, for the devil himself is the
enemy, who regards no seasons of attack : nor ever waits while
his adversary prepares for the assault ; but stands every moment
watching to find the virgin stripped, so that he may inflict upon
her an opportune wound. Nay, so far from being permitted
to rest, she carries her arch-enemy about with her. The con
demned see their prince and judge, only at a season, and do not
constantly endure the same torments ; but the virgin, go whither
she may, bears her avenger in her bosom, and supports her adver
sary in her arms, who allows her no repose, at eventide, or in the
night, or in the dawn, or at noon ; but still -wages war, ?)7o>'>)>'
vworidefiEvoe, ydpov fxr)vvu)y; so as that an advantage may be
gained over her ; eKKaitTai ecf t/jaVnjc wpag Trjg rjEovrje rj Ka-
fiivoe [laXdaKiiE viroKaiofievrj. Think then what the labour is
which this course of life exacts ! and yet even those who have
undergone all this may hear the words — Depart from me, I
never knew you ! And see how great a virtue virginity is,
seeing ihat she hath for her sister — Almsgiving I having nothing
that can ever be more arduous, but will be above all. Wherefore
it was that these (foolish virgins) entered not in, because they had
not, along with theii- virginity — almsgiving! —  Thou hast

222 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
then that efficacious mode of penance, almsgiving, which is able
to break the chains of thy sins ; but thou hast also another most
easy way of penitence, by which thou mayest he freed from thy
sins. — Pray every hour ! '
These citations I would not curtafl, inasmuch as they tell upon
our argument in more ways than one. Let them, fraught as they
are with the darkest errors of the darkest times of the Church,
sink into the mind of every protestant who, whfle he is being
cautioned against popery, is invited (inveigled might we not say)
to accept the overcast Christianity of Chrysostom and his contem
poraries. The practical amount of the above-cited passages is
this, and nothing better, that whoever could appear at the gate of
heaven with virginity in the one hand, and a sixpence of alms in
the other, might boldly claim admission. When Chrysostom,
drawing to a conclusion, after dwelling upon the hard-earned
merits of celibacy, comes to say — Nevertheless all this merit may,
at the last, avail its possessor nothing ; one fully expects to hear
him add — ' unless it be accompanied with, and unless it spring
from, a genuine and gracious principle of piety ;' but such is not
the doctrine of this prince of the nicene church ; — virginity,
celestial virtue as it is, will not purchase heaven, apart from alms
giving. Heaven ! what is its price ? virginity and an obolus !
The burden of sin, how is it to be got rid of? by virginity and an
eleemosynary obolus ! Let us now be plainly toW whether pas
sages such as these, cited from this principal divine of the nicene
church, do really embody, and fairly express, the doctrine, and the
general tenor of the articles and homflies of the english church.
Was it to estabfish pharisaic delusions so gross as those which
Chrysostom laboured to uphold, that the iflustrious victims of
Mary's fury died in the flames at Oxford and in Smithfield ? The
time must come when it wifl be felt by all ingenuous minds
among the clergy, that, although the english church may have
been aUied to the nicene, by the retention of a few untoward
phrases in some of its offices, the heart and mind of the english
reformers and of the nicene fathers were totally dissimilar : the
Gospel, recovered for us by one, had little or nothing in common
with the dreaming theosophy of the other ; except just the nomen
clature of Christianity. The real question now at issue is—

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 223
whether we shall go over to Chrysostom, Ambrose, and Basil ; or
stand fast by the english church and its founders.
That the doctrine advanced by Chrysostom, in his Homilies on
Repentance, was not a hasty rhetorical flourish, appears from its
recurrence, in nearly the same terms, in his exposition of the
gospel of Matthew,* and where he very distinctly affirms that,
vast as is the merit of virginity, it wfll not avail apart from alms
giving. We may, however, meet with doctrine a little less grossly
erroneous elsewhere among the nicene expositors : thus for in
stance Augustine, who, by the way, appears to be much less in
favour with the Oxford Tract divines than are his more popish
predecessors and contemporaries, offers an explication of the
same parable, which, making due allowance for the style of the
times, may be admitted as rational and scriptural,-|- notwith
standing the conceit about the five senses, as prefigured by the
five virgins, and which had been adopted by several of the fathers.
Jerome's exposition approaches, in some degree, that of Augus
tine ; and yet holds in part also to that of Chrysostom. Venditur
hoc oleum, et multo emitur pretio, ac difficili labore conquiritur,
quod m eleemosynis cunctisque virtutibus et consiliis intelligiraus
magistrorum. J Hilary § says that the lamps (flames) pirefigure
the ' light of those resplendent souls that shine in the brightness
of the sacrament of baptism : the oil is the fruit of good works : the
vessels are the bodies of men, within which is hidden the treasure
of a good conscience : those who sell this oil are they who, needing
the aid of the faithful, furnish them in their own persons, with
what they seek, by affording us the opportunity of procuring a
good conscience by the supply of their necessities. These (works
of charity) are the copious material of a flame that fails not.' In
ascending higher, we do not meet with notions much more
evangelic. Origen || says — ' those who rightly believe and live,
are properly compared to the five prudent ; but those who, whfle
professing faith in Christ, have not prepared themselves by good
works for salvation, are fikened to the five foolish virgins.'
' Horn. Ixxviii. tom. vii. p. 848.
t See the Sermon on the Parable, and De diversis quest, lix., and Enar-
ratio in Psal. 147.
I Jerom. in loco. § Comment, in Matt. [] In loco.

224 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE
Among those who occupy the foremost rank in the ancient
church, and who are now, hy name, held up as our masters
in theology, there are shades of difference, and yet very nearly
the same mind — a mind dimly illuminated by the apostolic light,
and from which the first principle of Christianity was almost
wholly expefled by a false notion of sanctity. There is however
a solid satisfaction in finding that, whfle men high in station
were, with one consent, hotly driving the christian worid onwards
toward the precipice into which the romish church plunged it
headlong, there were those, in the shade, and of obscure name,
who held to a better doctrine, and who diffused, unnoticed and
unknown, a life-giving illumination of truth, within their narrow
circles. Whoever may have been the author of the Homilies and
Apophthegms, attributed to Macarius, the Egyptian — a hermit of
the nicene age, he evidently knew far more of Christianity, and
more clearly perceived its real intention, than any of the great
orators and doctors of the same age. The record of the true
church is on high, and we may well believe that our Lord's
promise to be with his Church always, has received its accom
plishment from age to age, in relation to thousands whose names
make no figure in the patristric folios.
Without affirming more of the following passages than they
seem to deserve, I think they may with advantage be contrasted
with the quotation just above made from Chrysostom. ' Behold
the five virgins, prudent and vigilant, who, gladly yielding them
selves to that which is foreign to their nature, received into the
vessel of their heart, the oil, that is to say, that grace ofthe Spirit
which descends from above,' (compare this with Chrysostom's
virginity, lit up with a penny's worth of eleemosynary oil) ' and
were able to enter with the bridegroom into the heavenly marriage
chamber. Whereas the foolish, abiding in their own natural
state, iv rrj iSi<jL (pvaei dirofiiivaaai, did not watch, nor took care
to receive the oil of gladness into their vessels ; but, just as
they were in the flesh, slumbered through carelessness, laxity,
and indolence ; or, through ignorance, or even a false notion of
their own righteousness ' (just such a notion as the language of
the fathers above cited tended to foster ;) ' wherefore they were
shut out from the royal banquet ; not being such as could please

SCHEME OF SALVATION. 225
the heavenly Bridegroom. For being held by the chain of
mundane affections, and the love of things earthly, they had
not rendered their entire hearts, in cordial attachment, to the
heavenly Spouse, nor had obtained the oil ; whereas souls seeking
to entertain what is foreign to nature, to wit, the sanctifi
cation of the Spirit, are bound by an undivided love to the
Lord, and walk with him, converse with him by prayer, and
diverted from all else, fix their thoughts upon him ; and so are
deemed worthy to receive the ofl of the heavenly grace, and thence
are enabled to pass through securely, altogether acceptable to the
spiritual Bridegroom.' *
Much might be quoted from this same author, which, saving a
phrase or two here and there, would pass as protestant and scrip
tural writing ; and which offers almost the strongest possible con
trast to the manner and spirit of the great contemporary divines.
It is particularly to be noted that this writer, although himself an
ascetic, a hermit, abstains from the favourite ascetic topics ; and
often speaks in disparaging terms of celibacy, fasting, and the
like. His style also, in regard to the sacraments, differs essen
tially from that current in his times : in a word, he speaks of these
means of grace in a manner befitting one who was spiritually
taught. It is important to mark the latent alliances of doctrines,
or that secret principle of affinity, which brings seemingly uncon
nected notions into actual conjunction. Thus, while the great
nicene writers, one and all, are seen to exclude the Gospel, and to
substitute a flimsy, home-made justification, hammered out of
celibacy, almsgiving, fasting, and all the frippery of the ascetic
discipfine, they are also heard to indulge in the wildest extrava
gancies regarding the efficacy of the sacraments, the dignity of
the sacerdotal office, the power ofthe Church, and the like. They
are also heard invoking the saints, adoring, or near to it, the relics
of martyrs, and magnifying whatever is formal and human, whfle
they depress or forget whatever is spiritual and divine.
The very reverse, in all these respects, is true of our obscure
Macarius, who, taught from above, rises superior, in great mea
sure, to the delusions of the times he lived in, of which many
striking instances might be adduced, and which would make
^ * Macarius, Hom. iv.

226 CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE, ETC.
conspicuous that miserable defection from evangelic principles
which attaches to those of the nicene fathers who are now being
cited as authorities in theology. The contrast is made the more
pointed, if we keep to the particular subject which we have found
to be handled so poorly by Chrysostom and others.
' Unless humility and simplicity and goodness adorn our
tempers, a form of prayer will avafl us nothing ; nor indeed any
other labours we may undergo, in preserving virginity, or the
like, . . . and, destitute of these graces, we shall take our part
with the foolish virgins in the day of judgment, who, because
they had not in the vessels of their hearts the ofl of spiritual
grace, were named fools, and were excluded from the spiritual
marriage chamber of the king.' And elsewhere : ' unless humility,
simplicity, love, cleave to us, our prayers, or I should rather
say the semblance or pretence of prayer, will avail us nothing ;
and what is true of prayer, is true of other exercises of piety,
even the most painful and laborious, such as virginity, vigfls,
fastings, psalmody, ministrations, and such like offices of a
specious godliness.' *
We must not indeed expect to find in any writer of the nicene
age, not even in one who, like Macarius, gives evidence of rational
and scriptural piety, a clear exhibition of what we emphatically
cafl the Gospel ; for this had too long been lost sight of, to be
recovered in its fulness and power by any single mind. But
there is, at the least, truth to a certain extent, as well as the
absence of gross and fatal errors. Macarius may be read with
pleasure and advantage, by those who are better taught than
himself; whfle the principal nicene fathers, whatever benefits we
may receive from the perusal of them, are not to be looked into
without distress, amazement, and the utmost caution.
• De custodia cordis.

227

FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE QUALITY
OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY.

There is a very simple method of ascertaining the tendency
and theological quality of religious writings, which, although it
may seem a little arbitrary, yet wfll, I think, very seldom prove
to be fallacious : it turns upon the rule that a writer's selection
of Scripture, incidental, or formal, indicates his personal feeling,
and his doctrinal bias. This rule would at once be admitted by
many, as a safe one, if applied to some of our modern ultra pro
testant writers, who, while expounding and quoting, a thousand
times over, certain noted passages in Paul's epistles, are found
to advert much less often to our Lord's discourses ; and verj'
sparingly adduce any of the merely preceptive portions of the
very epistles, the doctrinal parts of which engage so much of their
attention. Why may we not then avail ourselves of this same
rule, in other directions ? It surely has a foundation in the reason
of things, and it implies that, if at any time, or in any particular
church, certain elements of truth have lost their due place iu the
system of doctrines, those passages of Scripture where such ele
ments are prominent, will be seldom adduced, or when adduced,
will be confusedly or perversely expounded.
Now, nothing can be more striking than is the result of a
general survey of the patristic literature, as brought to the cri
terion of this special rule. The question being — Did the nicene
divines themselves understand, and preach, the Gospel ? Look to
their choice of Scripture — the lists of texts most in favour with
them. The general reader should be apprised that, in almost
all the editions of the fathers, there is found, besides a general

228 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
index — rerum memorahilium, an index also of the passages of
Scripture which the author expounds, or which he incidentafly cites.
By the aid then of these indices, a pretty exact idea may without
much labour be obtained, of the feeling and doctrinal tendejicy
of these theologians, on the ground of the rule above advanced.
It will not be imagined that the absolute completeness or correct
ness of these indices should be vouched for ; nevertheless, their
general accuracy may very safely be affirmed : nor do I believe
that the issue of such an examination would be at all affected by
the few instances of omission, which a diligent research might
probably discover.
Assuming then these tables of texts cited or expounded, to he
in the main correct, we shall find, in the first place, that, with a
remarkable uniformity, they offer to the eye those half dozeo
texts which afford a colour of authority to the principles and
practices of the ascetic institute. Few indeed omit a reference to
our Lord's words — ' Let him that is able to receive it,' &c. or,
' They neither marry nor are given in marriage,' &c. or, to Paul'^ —
' It is good for a man not to touch a woman,' &c. These tables
exhibit also, and of this we do not complain, an abundajnt glean
ing, nay a rich harvest, gathered from the preceptive portions of
the inspired volume : generally, more from the Old Testament,
than from the New, and more from the Gospels, than from the
Epistles, and more from the didactic, than from the doctrinal parts
of the Epistles.
But those noted passages which, to protestant ears, are the most
familiar, and, to the well taught and spiritually minded, are the
most dear, such bright passages are, in some of these lists, alto
gether wanting, and in most are the least frequently cited ; or
where cited, it is in a sense, or for a purpose very unlike, as we
must think, their true intention. There are certain passages
which, setting forth in the clearest manner, the freeness, the large
ness, and the sufficiency of the method of salvation, are the first
to convey hope and joy to contrite spirits: and they are the very
same which the most eminent (modern) christians — the most
laborious, and the most holy, have clung to in their last hours :
they are the passages, moreover, which the most efficient and
enfightened preachers and pastors have employed as the key-note

laUAILTY or THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 229
of their ministrations, public and private ; and the very same are
what may be called the hinges of controversy, between the first
reformers and their purblind antagonists of the romish church.
Now I would recommend those who are conscientiously deter
mined to satisfy themselves, by personal researches, concerning
the great question now at issue between the nicene fathers and
the reformers, to pursue the suggestion I am here offering, and
to ascertain — no very difficult task, whether the allegation be
true or not — That the great divines of antiquity either avoid all
reference to passages of the kind now spoken of; or cite them in
some incidental manner, and apart from any expression of their
own feelings ; or, if they quote and expound such passages, do it
in a perverted manner, and so as to make it certain that they
themselves discerned little or nothing of the glory of Christianity,
as therein expressed. This strange forgetfulness of what, on
every account, claims our constant regard, and which, in modern
times, has, on all sides (among those who have seriously addicted
themselves to tlje study of the Scriptures) received the most
attention, "forces itself upon our notice, whenever we open the
remains of ancient Christianity. Every thing is wrought up and
expanded, and repeated, and expounded — every thing, but the
Gospel itself! From the apostolic fathers, and Justin, down
to Gregory I. and Boethius, nearly the same dimness_^in this
respect attaches to all.
I am anxious to suggest to those who will avail themselves of
such aid, various and independent modes of bringing to the proof
the patristic theology, on this most serious allegation, of its sad
deficiency in evangelic feeling, as well as doctrine. Among these
methods, I have already mentioned, as peculiarly conclusive, an
examination of those portraits of Christianity, in the concrete,
with which the works of the fathers abound. To this criterion,
let it be objected that the false rhetorical taste of the times may
perhaps have hidden from us, in such instances, the simple evan
gelic element of which we are in search, and which actually
attached, as well to the orator, as to the subject of his too flowery
declamation. Be it so ; but is it not a rule in historical science,
that, though men may often, after their death, be painted in false
colours by their admiring friends, they will be found to have

230 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
truly painted themselves, in their letters to their intimate
associates ?
Now if this rule be a good one, I fear its application to
the nicene divines will exhibit them in no very advantageous
light, as christian men. That they were, most of them, sincere,
devout, assiduous in their duties, and anxiously intent upon the
welfare of the churches under their care, is incontestably proved
by these remains. But does it appear from the same documents,
that their hearts were warmed by those truths which are the glory
of the christian system, and which, when so entertained, impart
an unction, and an animation to christian communion ? I think
the affirmative cannot be pretended in favour of these divines, by
even their most devoted admirers. What can he more lifeless
and trivial than a large proportion of the epistolary remains of
the ancient church ? I will not name the epistles of Synesius, or
those of Gregory Nazianzen ; but what are those even of Basfl,
or Ambrose, or Chrysostom ? If these specimens of ancient
christian friendship are found, generally, to breathe a simple-
hearted evangelic piety, or to glow with an apostolic zeal for the
furtherance of a pure Gospel, then let it be acknowledged that
whatever unfavourable inferences may seem to have resulted from
a perusal of other portions of the early christian literature, we
have been mistaken in the estimate we have formed of the men
and of the system. Are the advocates of nicene Christianity
willing to abide by the result of a full examination of the extant
patristic epistles ? I suppose not ; and yet it does not appear
why the criterion should not be regarded as a fair and conclusive
one. Putting out of view, for a moment, their inspiration, we
think ourselves able, in reading the apostolic epistles, to say what
subjects -were uppermost in the minds of the writers ; nor can
protestant readers oi the Bible find themselves at a loss in deter
mining, from these documents, whether the religion ofthe writers
was a system of fear, servility, bodily service, ascetic virtue,
credulity, exaggeration, sacramental mystification, and eccle
siastical arrogance ; or a system of warmth, affection, hope, joy,
love, substantial virtue, and real holiness. Now, judging of the
nicene writers precisely in the same way, that is to say, by the
general tenor and apparent temper of their letters to the churches,

aUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 231
or to their individual friends, is there any one bold enough to
aflirra that the latter, not the former, are the characteristics of
these remains, and to invite ample citations, in support of so
perilous a challenge ? I can only mention these methods of
proof, and express the hope that the conscientious inquirer will
avafl himself of them.

In looking broadly at the ancient expositions of Scripture,
the well-known, and prominent characteristic of many of them,
namely, the mythic, or allegorizing interpretation of its plain
histories, and simple statements of fact, has a meaning which, I
think, has been too little adverted to. This propensity to mystify
the plainest things, may be, and has heen, attributed to the ope
ration of several independent causes : but there is one which,
although the less obvious, was, as I am persuaded, the principal
and the most constant. If Origen be named (whether justly or
not) as the author of this allegorizing method, he will aid us, as
we shall see, in tracing it up to its secret source — that same
gnostic feeling, which explains so many other characteristics
of ancient Christianity. A reference to two or three places in
this learned, amiable, and pious writer, will exclude any doubt
as to the fact, that the christian church, participating with the
gnostics in those sickly and oriental notions of the divine nature,
which led the latter, as heretics, to attribute the visible creation
to an inferior and imperfect being, and to regard the Jewish
history, and economy, as unworthy of the supreme goodness and
wisdom — this deep gnostic feeling impelled the christian expositors
to rid themselves, as far as might be, of difficulties so formidable,
first, and where it could be done, by roundly affirming that cer
tain narrations, in the Old Testament, are not histories of facts, but
pure allegories, or mythic inventions, conveying spiritual truths ;
secondly, where this bold hypothesis was altogether inadmissible,
or where its adoption was not to be hazarded, by merely diverting
the attention from the plain history, in the copious use of ingenious
accommodations ; that is to say, allegories appended to the his
tory, where the history could not be absolutely melted down into
B 2

232 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
fable. So much for the mode of interpreting Scripture, in avoid
ance of gnostic objections. But there remained a rather more
difficult task, imposed by the same gnostic sentimentality, which
was that of reconciling the gnostic notion of the divine nature, as
pure and wise, with the constitution of the animal creation. Now
this task was connected with the interpretation of Scripture, by
the means of allegorizing disquisitions upon the mosaic account
of the six days' work. It was not indeed that the lion, the
tiger, the crocodile, the adder, the vulture, the shark, could he
spoken of as other than they are ; but yet, while a thousand gay
conceits concerning the ' spiritual meaning ' couched under these
untoward natures, could be held before the mind, something was
done, and a respite was obtained from the tormenting pressure of
the theosophic conception of the Deity.
Ample and amusing illustrations of what I am now affirming,
may be met with by referring to the Hexaemeron of Ambrose ;
where the forms, qualities, habits, of fishes, reptiles, birds, and
beasts, are convincingly shown to adumbrate all points of theology
and morals. And to what lengths did this irresistible infatuation
carry so respectable a writer ! To what use, for instance, does
he dare to convert the (misunderstood) natural history of the
vulture ? Let the reader look to the twentieth chapter of the
fifth book, and amidst his amazement and disgust, acknowledge
the proof he there and elsewhere finds, of the presence of a
motive powerful enough to overthrow afl soundness of judgment,
and to violate all refigious decorum. ' Nonne advertimus quod
Dominus ex ipsa natura plurima exempla ante praemisit, quibus
susceptae incarnationis decorem probaret, et adstrueret veritatem ? '
Basil makes the same offensive use of the same ridiculous fable ;
and throughout his Hexaemeron employs a rich invention in
-what he and others considered as the laudable endeavour, not
so much to derive lessons of piety from the natural world, as
to obviate, or supersede, the terrible gnostic objection to the
mundane system, as impure and sanguinary. But we mast
return for a moment to the mythic interpretation of the Old Tes
tament history, and see in what way Origen opens up to us the
real motive of this practice.
The principle of allegorical interpretation which he adopted, is

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 233
stated and defended, as well incidentally as formally, in many
parts of his writings; and, among the reasons adduced in behalf
of it is this, that it aids us in understanding passages, which, if
literally interpreted, would either involve contradictions, or be
offensive, and tend to encourage sentiments and practices else
where explicitly condemned.* He formally assumes a license for
considering as allegory, whatever, even in the plainest narrations,
does not seem to consist with certain received notions of what
was fitting in the divine dispensations, or in the conduct of the
patriarchs. That this principle of interpretation sprung, not
merely from the wish to obviate gnostic objections, but from a
latent admission of their force, appears clearly enough from the
tenor of the foflowing passage ; especially when compared with
the places in which the rule of allegorical exposition is actually
applied to particular instances. Origen, having established the
inspiration of the Scriptures, states the necessity of laying down
such a rule of interpretation, as shall exclude the cavils and false
assumptions of Jews and heretics.
" These latter, when they read such texts as these — ' a fire is
kindled by my wrath,' &c. . . . and a thousand things of the
like kind, have not indeed dared to deny that these scriptures are
from a god ; but then they suppose them to have proceeded from
the Demiurge whom the Jews worship, an imperfect, and not
benevolent being ; and they affirm that the Saviour has come to
announce to mankind a more perfect Deity, whom they deny to
be the same as the Demiurge, or creator of this world. Having
once strayed from the truth, they have adopted various opinions,
at the suggestion of their fancy, and have embraced notions con
cerning the visible and the invisible worlds, as attributed to dif
ferent creators. There are moreover, even within the pale of the
Church, some of the simpler sort, and who mainly hold to the
true theology, and who yet (in consequence of their adherence to
the literal sense of Scripture) think of the true God in the most
unworthy manner. Now the sole cause of all the errors above
referred to, whether of the impious, or of the simple-minded,
* See the Fragment on Galatians, torn. i. p. 41. Benedictine, and more at
length, in the De Principiis, lib. iv.

234 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
is the habit of understanding Scripture not in the spiritual (or
mystic) but in the naked and literal sense." Our author then
proceeds, at great length, to expound and to recoramend his own
remedial system of interpretation ; which, as he thinks, will en
able us to evade every difficulty, and to preserve, unimpaired,
those just and elevated notions of the divine purity, justice, and
benevolence, which the Gospel conveys.
It is manifest then, and other passages might be cited to the
same effect, that with Origen, who was the author, or great pro
moter of the mythic mode of interpretation, the priraary motive
for its adoption was a tacit adraission of the gnostic sentiment and
doctrine. This system of exegesis, violent as it was, and shock
ing to common sense, and precarious too, for it could not be ap
plied to all cases, even to those the most needing it, has often,
by modern writers, been attributed merely to a ' false taste,' or to
an ' ambition of ingenuity,' or to an oriental exuberance of the
imagination. But we see that it had a much deeper and more,
serious meaning, and that it is the indication of a gnostic feeling,
strong in the minds even of tho.se who were the most decided
opponents of the gnostic heresies. The broad expression of this
same feeling we have found under another form — the doctrine and
practice of abstractive asceticism and celibacy, and have thus
obtained incidental and yet conclusive proof of the oneness and
consistency of that system which, in the nicene age, had come
into the place of apostolic Christianity.
I wish especially, on this occasion, to point out the slightness
and faflaciousness of the mode in which modern writers have
allowed themselves to allude, with an incurious and affected
scorn, to the characteristic features of ancient Christianity. ' Mon
kery and asceticism' — they were the ' follies of the age ;' — ' super
stitious notions and practices' — the human mind had then ' be
come enfeebled ;'^ — •' the mystic interpretation of Scripture' — ' the
fathers were men of more imagination than judgment ;' and, in a
word, ' we, better taught as we are, may just glance at these
errors, and pass on.' This frivolous style, unsatisfactory and
unphflosophical as it is, might have passed as sufficient in the
times that are gone, or that are going by ; hut it is now becoming
not simply obsolete and inappropriate, but seriously delusive and

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 235
dangerous ; inasmuch as it favours the supposition that ancient
Christianity, although disfigured by some blemishes, was yet, as
compared with the romanism of later times, pure and sound.
A more exact, and indeed, a more philosophical analysis of the
ancient church system, wfll, I am fully persuaded, serve to con
vince all unprejudiced minds that these trivial imperfections, or
' lollies,' as we have been taught to call them, were, in truth,
the several symptoms of one and the same deep-seated disease ;
and that, for instance, things so seemingly unconnected and inde
pendent as we may think the profession of virginity, and the
mythic interpretation of Scripture, both sprang, in no circuitous
manner, from one principle, and that principle nothing else but
the rudiment of the asiatic theosophy. But then, this same
sovereign cause gave law to every thing else, or to every thing
which distinguishes the nicene from the apostolic church. Hence,
the danger of borrowing notions, rites, and practices, from a
system which had come under the tyrannous control of a foreign
and fatal influence.
But there are peculiarities attaching to the ancient mode of
expounding Scripture which demand to be noticed as illustrating
our present position, that the great nicene writers were, in a very
low degree, conscious of those truths which protestants regard as
constituting the glory and peculiarity of the Gospel.
I have already mentioned that omission of the most vividly
evangelic portions of Scripture, which appears when we examine
the indices of texts cited by the fathers. But when we open
what professes to be a consecutive exposition of an epistle fraught
with the most animating passages, we feel as if, now at least, we
must discover what was the feeling of the writers ; for how can
they avoid what stands directly in their path, and in a path
chosen by themselves ? How avoid such evangelic passages ?
Sometimes by neatly leaping over them ! Of which several in
stances may be found in Chrysostom's exposition of the Pauline
epistles. These serious lacunae in certain noted ancient expositions,
would, if the continuity of the discourse did not preclude the
supposition, make one think that a leaf, here and there, had
been torn from the manuscript. But if passages of the kind
now referred to are not actually passed over, they are too often

236

FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE

expounded in a style that is dry and cold, or ambiguous, or posi
tively' erroneous.
In support of this representation I must confine myself to one
or two instances, but they wifl be such as to carry the inference
appended to them. Chrysostom's mode of exposition is charac
terized by its diffuseness, and prolixity ; and we may say, in a
sense, its comprehensiveness. He stands moreover, by general
suffrage, at the head of the nicene divines, and is surely second
to none of them, as an expositor — all quafities taken together.
We may safely therefore bring him forward as an authoritative
instance. The seventh homily on the epistle to the Romans contains a
diffuse exposition of the latter portion of the third chapter ; and
it is such as would probably satisfy many modern readers, clearly
affirming as it does, that salvation is God's free gift : a gift re
ceived by faith, and not to be obtained by the observance of the
Jewish law. So far all is well ; and one is happy too to meet
with so much of truth ; but yet no such distinction is observed as
warrants our supposing that Chrysostom had in his mind the im
portant difference between the ' making just,' and the justifying,
or declaring just, in a forensic sense ; nor does he kindle upon the
theme, nor take the occasion to awaken the hearts of his hearers, as
a modern preacher would not fail to do ; but he slides off imme
diately into ethical disquisitions, which, proper as they may be in
themselves, yet, in the connexion in which they come, must have
tended to cherish rather the legal than the evangelic feeling of
those whom he addressed. The phrase k^aicju'rie StKaiovg Troieiy,
might suggest the belief that justification by faith, in the pro
testant sense, was intended ; but when we turn to the places where
the same writer declares his opinion of the justifying efficacy of
baptism, it becomes but too evident that such an expression, and
much besides which might by itself seem unexceptionable, really
meant a far different doctrine ; how different, let those say who
have read and considered the two exhortations addressed to the
candidates for baptism.* 'Although a man should be foul with
every human vice, the blackest that can be named, yet should
* S«e especially the passage, tom. ii. p. 269.

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 287
he fall into the baptismal pool, he ascends from the divine
waters, purer than the beams of noon.' This then was Chry
sostom's sense of ' the making just in a moment.' In truth,
this is placed beyond doubt by what soon follows — ' They who
approach the baptismal font, are not only made clean from all
wickedness, but holy also, and just, dyiovg Koi SiKalovg.
Nothing is more necessary, in looking into the fathers, than to
be guarded against the illusion of attributing an evangelic sense
to phrases which can be so understood only so long as we attri
bute to them a modern sense ; but which, when collated with
other passages in the same writer, are found to have borne, in the
mind of the ancient church, a meaning totally different ; and, as
we must think, a meaning miserably erroneous. Let us not
then be referred to Chrysostom's exposition of the epistle to the
Romans, in proof of the substantial soundness of his opinions,
until there be adduced also passages, such as the one now cited,
where, whatever a protestant might wish to say of justification
by faith, and of salvation by grace without works, is attached to
the baptismal rite, as its constant and proper effect. Nothing
would be easier than, by an artfully selected series of quotations,
to make Chrysostom preach like Luther, or even Calvin ; but
let Chrysostom be allowed to expound Chrysostom, and then
the illusion is dispelled. 'As a spark thrown into the ocean
is instantly extinguished, so is all human sin extinguished more
readfly than that spark, when the man is thrown into the laver of
regeneration. Nay he comes forth another man.' That the
highest possible importance was attached to the mere rite, appears
from the way in which it was everywhere spoken of, and particu
larly when the preacher is reprehending those — too many, who
deferred baptism to their last hour, and who, irrespectively of
their state of mind, or moral condition, are solemnly declared to
be liable, until so regenerated, to eternal torments. But this is a
subject too weighty to be cursorily treated, and which will
demand hereafter the fullest explication. The instance may be
enough to illustrate my meaning, in saying that what may seem
the most evangelic and unexceptionable in the patristic ex
positions, must always be held as worth only what it will appear
to mean, after the author's sense of the phrases he employs has

238 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
been ascertained from himself ; and has been entirely disengaged
from our protestant modes of thinking.
What were Chrysostom's candidates for baptism likely to be
thinking of, supposing them to have heen sincere and devout?
¦Was it the grace and power of the Divine Saviour, in whom, if
they were at that time fit subjects for the rite, they had already
believed ; or was it the abstract doctrine of justification hy faith,
or indeed any doctrine, or any state of mind, truly cafled spiritual 1
It might have been so ; but the direct tendency of the preacher's
very solemn discourse, on this occasion, was, the human mind
being such as it is, to make them think intently, and almost
exclusively, ofthe rite of baptism — the 'pool of regeneration and
justification,' a descent into which was the turning point of salva
tion — the wicket, in passing through which the man made his way
in a moment, from the confines of the pit of eternal misery, and
set foot upon the terra firma of eternal fife : — this pool, hiding
beneath its sparkling surface the most tremendous mysteries, was
almost certain to fix the eyes of the trembling candidate, in the
previous moment a child of wrath, unregenerate, unjustified, and,
should any accident intervene, unsaved. To such a one, nay, to
far the larger proportion of all who approached the awful brink
of those wonder-working waters, the rite took the place of the
spiritual reality, and of the Saviour.
In considering, practically, the effect of different modes of pre
senting religious truths to the mass of minds, the question is not,
whether such and such great principles, acknowledged to be
momentous, are sometimes offered to the view of the people ; but
rather this, whether they are so offered as that the several elements
of religion are seen in their true perspective — the foremost, fore
most ; the hindermost, hindermost? Every thing depends upon
this perspective — even all the vast difference between a saving
gospel, and a pernicious delusion. And in considering such a
question in a practical manner, we must take into the account,
not the nice and well-compacted notions of a few cultured minds,
well trained in analysis, and synthesis, and order ; but must have
regard to the thousand, the many, who, purely passive as to
whatever is intellectual, will accept things, just as they are offered
to them. It is precisely on this ground of practical wisdom, that

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 239
we (protestants) are used utterly to reject the fine papistical
apologies that have been offered for image worship, and the sup
plication of the saints. Tell us not how the few may possibly
steer clear of fatal errors, and avoid a gross idolatry, whfle
admitting such practices. What will be their effect with the
multitude ? The actual condition of the mass of the people in all
countries where popery has been unchecked, gives us a sufficient
answer to this question ; nor do we scruple to condemn these
practices as abominable idolatries. Tell us not how Fenelon, or
Pascal, might extricate themselves from this impiety : what are the
frequenters of churches in Naples, and Madrid ? nothing better
than the grossest polytheists, and far less rationally religious, than
were their ancestors of the times of Numa and Pythagoras.
When the eye opens upon a wide and splendid prospect, idly
gazing upon it, all its parts are depicted on the retina, as well as
present to the mind. Say however to the listless spectator — ' If
you keep your eye fixed upon yonder obscure cottage, you will
presently see the greatest monarch on earth issue from it,' and the
effect would be instantly, that, although the same width of land
scape was still before the organ — the same fields, groves, rivers,
mountains, palaces, painted on the retina ; yet nothing would he
present to the mind, nothing but this cottage. The law of intel
lectual vision is precisely analogous to this. It means nothing to
say, ' such and such important objects have been placed within
the view of those whom we instruct : ' — upon which, among these
objects, has the mind heen concentrated ? All else is nearly as if
it were not. And it is, moreover, to be remembered, that,
according to the invariable laws of the human mind, while the
power to take a comprehensive and just view of various objects
lying together within the field of vision, belongs to the calmest
minds only, and, in their several degrees, to every mind in its
calmest moments ; the exclusiveness of the mind's regard to single
objects, is always directly as the amount of emotion at the time.
Agitate the soul, in any way, excite its fears, hopes, or any of the
passions, and then instantly, and just in proportion to the excite
ment, wifl the mind lose its consciousness of all hut the single
exciting object. Show a man the muzzle of a loaded cannon,
peeping from a thicket in the distance, and whence he may every

240 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
moment expect his death ; show him, on the broad bosom of
a tumbling sea, an open boat, in which his wife and children are
tossing, between hope and despair, and what else will he see !
Now this law of our nature, a law taking sovereign hold of the
mass of mankind, indeed of all but a very few, has a most im
portant bearing upon the style and topics of popular religious
instruction. You may disregard, if you wfll, the due perspective
of objects when you are coldly lecturing upon phflosophy ; but to
fall into this error of position and proportion, when the stirring
motives of eternity, when the alternatives of heaven and hell, are
quickening the most intense emotions, and stimulating the most
vivid anxieties — to do so, in such instances, is the same thing as
to teach, in a positive form, the blackest heresies : no heresy can
be really more fatal than is the practical error of presenting the
objects of religious regard in an inverted order, to a mind deeply
moved by religious sentiments. It is a cruel mockery, in such a
case to say — ' nay, we set forth all the truth.' On what point was
the anxious eye fixed ?
Now I am persuaded that the merits of the general system of
popular teaching, as practised by the ancient church, as well as the
soundness of what are now termed ' church doctrines,' if judged
of according to this rule — a rule founded upon the first principles
of human nature, may readfly be determined ; and the result of
applying such a criterion will be to reject, as far worse than posi
tive heresy, that practical dislocation of objects which was the
characteristic of ancient Christianity, and which is the characteristic
of the Oxford Tract ' church doctrines.' Let us apply this crite
rion for a moment, and in doing so, take the ground, and admit
the premises of the Oxford Tract writers.
In one of the most ingenious, specious, candid, and attractive of
these publications, (No. 85,) perhaps the most so, after that on
' Reserve in communicating religious knowledge,' the difficulties
under which ' church principles ' labour, as resting upon very slender
and indirect proofs, are fully and fairly stated — stated, and (let it
be granted) mitigated, if not removed ; nay, I would allow, so far
removed, or the pressure of them so far relieved, as to prevent
their being /a<aZ to those doctrines — other considerations which
weigh against them, not now admitted. It is granted by the

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 241
writer, that these doctrines, such as the divine right of episcopacy,
the apostolic succession, the power of the Church, the efficacy of
the sacraments, the sacrificial virtue of the Lord's supper, and so
forth, are wanting in direct or satisfactory proof, and are to he
established, if at all, only by the aid of very attenuated, and
nicely managed inferential arguments. ' Every one must allow,
says the writer, speaking in the person of an objector, ' that there
is next to nothing, on the surface of Scripture, about them (these
church doctrines) and very little, even under the surface, of a
satisfactory character.' — ' In short, is riot, it may be asked, the
state of the evidence for all these doctrines just this — a few strik
ing texts, at most, scattered up and down the inspired volume ;
or one or two particular passages, of one particular epistle, or a
number of texts, which may mean, but need not mean, what they
are said by churchmen to mean, which say something looking
like what is needed, but with very little strength and point, inade
quately and unsatisfactorily ? ' And again, the same objection is
otherwise stated. 'Now when we turn to Scripture, we see much
indeed of those gifts (spiritual) we read much of what Christ has
done for us, by atoning for our sins, and much of what he does in
us, that is, much about holiness, faith, peace, love, joy, hope, and
obedience ; but of those intermediate portions of the revelation,
coming between him and us, of which the Church speaks, we read
very little.' — p. 50.
After having thus, and more at length, admitted the difficulty,
the writer goes on, with much address, and, let it be confessed,
with some solid reason, so far, to show that, although so slenderly
attested, and so slightly alluded to in Scripture, these doctrines
may nevertheless, like other principles universally received among
orthodox christians, have actually constituted a part, and even an
essential part, of apostolic Christianity, and that, whether we find
them in Scripture, or elsewhere, they may reasonably claim our
reverential regard.
Let all this conditional reasoning, and the ingenious illustra
tions attending it, be admitted as satisfactory, and let it (for a
moment) be granted that the opinions of the Oxford Tract
writers concerning ' Baptism, the Lord's Supper, Church Union,
Ministerial Power, Apostolical Succession, Absolution, and other

242 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
rites and ceremonies,' are sound ; that is to say, that these doc
trines and practices are either somewhere contained in, or are
virtually conveyed by, the New Testament, although not thence
to be gathered by any convincing method of proof ; or that they
may be gathered from history. Be it so ; that is to say, that,
while the Apostles insist upon faith, hope, love, joy, peace, obe
dience, and the like, they also taught and established in the
churches, the ' church principles and practices,' such as we find
them everywhere in the records of ancient Christianity.
For reasons which may lie beyond our ken, it may have pleased
God to convey the spiritual and moral elements of religion
through the medium of explicit written statements; while the
ritual and ecclesiastical elements of the same great and harmo
nious scheme, were to reach us more circuitously, or more
ambiguously. If this were granted to be the fact (which is much
more than we grant) could we yet go on to believe that the
relative position, or, as we may say, the perspective of objects —
the spiritual, the moral, the ritual, the ecclesiastical, was, with the
divine sanction, and in accordance with the divine wfll, to be
inverted, when the apostolic scheme came into the hands of
the next generation ? Grant it, that more belonged to apostolic
Christianity than may certainly or clearly be gathered from the
apostolic writings ; but yet was not this after-portion to fall
into its place, in obedience to the general law of the system,
as we may gather that law from the style, temper, and very
words, and special decisions, of the Apostles ? Was it intended
that the individual christian was, as soon as the Apostles left
the world, to shift his position, and to betake himself to a point
of view whence every thing would appear under a totally
different aspect, and present to the eye a side that had not
been seen before ; and that these objects severally, should
subtend, on the field of vision, exchanged magnitudes —
the great seeming small, and the small great? Is this to
be believed ?
But it must be believed, if we are to take the several articles of
what is cafled ' church doctrine,' in the order, and under the per
spective, in which we find them, where only we do find them at all,
namely, in the extant remains of the early church. If we give up

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 243
these records, we give up with them those superadded practices
and principles, or ' church doctrines ;' for we have no other suffi
cient warrant for paying them any regard. But if we adhere to
these records, then on what principle do we submit to the rites
and notions thence derived, as of apostolic authority, and yet re
ject the relative position therein assigned to them ? Whence do
we draw our authority for making this distinction, and for acting
upon the difference, between the doctrines or practices themselves,
and the location of them? If the bishops of the early church are
to teach us ' the way of the Lord more perfectly' than we can
learn it from the Apostles themselves, then, on what ground do
we call in question their right to hold the entire scheme of religion
up to our view, in its just perspective ? I do not understand how
we can yield ourselves to this extra-apostolic authority, just in
regard to the articles of christian belief and worship ; and then
withdraw ourselves from it, in regard to the order in which they
are to follow one the other.
I assume it then as certain that, in taking what are called the
' church doctrines' from the early and nicene church writers, we
are bound to receive them not insulated, or in fragments ; but as
we there find them. But if so, then we, that is to say those who
yield themselves to this guidance, are placed in a predicament as
serious as any that can be imagined, for we are not merely called
upon to accept, as of divine authority, very much which the
inspired writers barely glance at ; but to regard those things as
foremost which, in the inspired writings, even if they appear at
all, and which is confessed to be doubtful, are placed hindermost.
To make so many additions to our faith, worship, and practice,
is something ; but it yet is nothing compared with the ominous
operation of inverting the entire order of things — spiritual and
ecclesiastical. What religious mind will not hesitate and tremble
when invited to go to such a length as this ?
No fact in the history of religion, or philosophy, obtrudes it
self more forcibly, or more frequently, upon our notice, than that
of the utter contrast between the apostolic writings, and the writ
ings of the fathers, especially ofthe nicene fathers (who are now
to be our masters) in this particular, namely, the relative position
of the diverse elements of religion. I can hardly believe that

'^¦^ '^^".^^

244 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
any will be so bold as roundly to deny, or as, in any important
sense, to quaflfy the statement of this fact. Assuredly none—
not the Oxford Tract writers, for they have confessed the very
contrary — none will dare to say that the Apostles were mainly in
tent upon the enhancement and glorification of the rites, forms,
dignities, and exterior apparatus of Christianity. If any wfll say
this, I have no reply to make to them. Nor can I suppose that
any, except a very few, who, by long and fond converse with
antiquity, have lost the vigour of their moral and intellectual
perceptions, will deny that the fathers, and the nicene fathers
especially, look at the components of their Christianity from an
opposite point. They do not, as I have stated twenty times, den}',
or altogether forget, that which is spiritual in religion ; but they
place foremost, and they urgently direct the minds of the people
towards that which is visible. It is on these matters that their
seriousness and fervour are employed ; it is while upholding
these, that they kindle and spend their force. When do they
lavish rhetoric ? in glorifying the Saviour of sinners, and in
recommending the Gospel? — seldom; some of them neiier. But
they can, one and all, glow and burn, and roll thunders, and dart
their sparks, when the mysteries and powers of the Church are in
question. An illustration in harmony with the subject offers itself among
the stores of graphic ecclesiastical antiquity, where one may find
the delineation of this or that sacred edifice, fairly depifted in
bold lines and strong colours ; embossed too, and palpable, in its
glittering decorations. Then there are about it, and about it,
flimsy, faint-coloured cherubs, and seraphs, hovering in the clouds,
and chirping anthems; and, altogether, making a seemly border
to the temple of St. Peter, or St. Mark. Now, much like this
is the view of Christianity presented to us in the patristic records —
there is the church, boldly drawn, and bodfly laid upon the
parchment, so as that one may feel its outlines, as well as look at
it ; and this church is made awful to the mind of the spectator by
its hiding the 'terrific mysteries,' while around it, and over it, flutter
the airy figures of spiritual piety — faith, hope, charity, joy, peace,
and the fike ; and, to render justice to the system, the moral
virtues — temperance, self-denial, charity (almsgiving) are seen,

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 245
in substantial quafity, moving in and out of the building, as living
personages. Yet such is the general arrangement of objects in
the piece — such the grouping, and the distribution of light and
shade, as that, even if the few and the better taught kept their
eye fixed upon spiritual objects, the many could do nothing
else but look directly toward that which, in a practical sense,
seemed alone of any consequence to them. They looked to
the sacraments, which they were solemnly assured conveyed
infallibly the benefit they were in search of, namely, exemption
from future perfl. Nay, so direct is the tendency of perverted
human nature toward whatever is visible and formal in religion,
that, with the mass of men, it was not so much the sacrament —
the rvhole religious rite, which fixed their attention, as the mere
material, or instrument of the sacraments : the glassy surface of
the baptismal pool, as yet unruffied, and refiecting the marbled
magnificence of the church, seemed the very mirror of eternity,
and a»if, while intently gazing upon it, the glories of heaven
might be dimly descried beneath. An analogous instance, and
hundreds of the like kind might be adduced, I have already
referred to, I mean that of the brother of Ambrose, who had been
taught to attach such importance to the mere eucharistic wafer,
as to think that, tied about his neck, it would serve him better
than the stoutest of the ship's timbers, in making his way to land
through the breakers !
Now, when we have instances of this sort before us, the question
is not (the immediate question) whether the notions of the early
church concerning the sacraments, and the wonder-working
efficacy ofthe bread, the wine, the water, the ofl, the salt, the
spittle, were true or false ; but whether in a broad and practical
sense, the effect of these notions upon the mass of the people, nay,
upon the best-trained minds (such for instance as Satyrus) was
not, to invert the order in which the spiritual and the ritual
elements of Christianity were to be viewed, as compared with the
order in which they seem to have stood in the view of the
Apostles? Say, that cathofic teaching, I mean that of the nicene fathers,
regarding the sacraments and other 'church doctrines,' is what
we ought to adopt and follow. But now I would gladly put the
plain question — an historical, not a theological question, to any
s

246 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
one competently informed, who has too much of the feelings of a
gentleman to res'ort to evasions, and too much of the' conscience of
a christian to put a false colour upon facts touching religious
principles, and too much of the integrity of a minister, or public
person, to compromise in any manner his professional character
— to such a one, I would be glad to put the question— Whether,
so far as we can judge by their writings, the Apostles, and the
nicene fathers, and their respective hearers, were accustomed to
look at the spiritual, and the ritual elements of Christianity from
one and the same point of view, or not rather from opposite points
of view? Who will give such a reply to this question as shall
not be open to a speedy refutation ?
Shall the answer to such a question be staked upon a full exhi
bition ofthe style and doctrine of Ambrose, concerning the sacra
ments; or shall we introduce him, passionately pleading with God
for the soul of Valentinian, who had died uninitiated, unregenerate,
unjustified, that is — unbaptized ; Solve, igitur. Pater Sancte,
munus servo tuo I Upon the popular mind, what effect could the
ambiguous anxious intercession of their trembling bishop, when
thus supplicating mercy for the soul of the uninitiated 'servant of
God,' have had, but that of putting the ritual in forefront of the
spiritual element of religion ? In conformity with the same
notion, the Church, from an early time, held that the blood of
martyrdom, although nothing else could, might be held, in the
case of a catechumen, to supply to the soul the want ofthe water
of baptism.So the custom, general as it became, of deferring baptism to
the last hour, a custom so utterly opposed to the practice of the
apostolic age, whence did it arise, but from the doctrine of the
Church at the time ; for the people, estimating, if we may so
speak, their chances of heaven, all things considered, concluded,
and not unreasonably, that although in doing so they incurred
the fearful risk of meeting death suddenly, or where the
• regenerating water ' could not be obtained, yet inasmuch as a
death-bed initiation, if it could but be had, would cover all defects,
and moreover, as sin after baptism could be expiated, if at all,
only in the precarious and painful methods of penance, which
expiatory process itself might be cut short by death, leaving no
remedy whatever ; the safer course, although a perflous one, was

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 24"
to hold in reserve, to the last, and trusting to good fortune, that
one remedy, concerning the efficacy of which no doubt could be
entertained. This course, moreover, had a further recommenda
tion, incidentally attached to it, namely, that, with the sovereign
remedy stfll untouched, and at hand, a man might, meantime,
live as he pleased — only let him be so fortunate, at the last, as to
have a kind priest within cafl, and all would be right ! In vain
the great preachers of the nicene age spent their eloquence in de
nouncing this impiety. Men coofly made their own calculations,
and chose to abide by what they felt to be their better chance.
It would be of no avail, in this case, to make a loose admission
in regard to the nicene divines, and to say — ' We grant that they
often express themselves unguardedly, or indulge in the language
of exaggeration ; or, whfle insisting upon some one point, forget
too much its relative importance — we grant this.' Such an
apology will not cover what it is stretched over. The question
is not concerning a little more, or a little less, or concerning the
proprieties of language ; but plainly concerning the relative posi
tion, as apprehended by the people at large, of the spiritual and
the ritual parts of Christianity ; and it is here affirmed that
whereas, in the apostolic writings, the spiritual stands foremost,
and the ritual (where it appears at all) hindermost ; in the nicene
writings, on the contrary, whatever may be said about the spi
ritual, the ritual is so placed as to fix upon itself the most intense,
if not the exclusive regards ofthe people. And that this was the
actual effect of this reversed order, is attested by the simple fact
that the people did so interpret the church doctrine, as bearing
upon their personal conduct ; the more religious class taking the
steep but certain road to heaven, through virginity, and the ascetic
discipline ; while the many — the less devout, in all degrees, down
to the gross and sensual, either secured their salvation within the
Church, availing themselves carefully of all its customary remedies,
or took a lodging just under the eaves of it ;- and, as they hoped,
¦within reach ofthe one great remedy, when the worst should come.
That is to say, after we have set off from the nicene system,
the super-human institute of celibacy, which could avail for only
a few, then, and for the many, this system was precisely what
popery has always been — a religion of sacraments.
s2

^48 further means of estimating THE
It may be asked by some—' Why may we not have a religion
of sacraments — of church mysteries, and church power, and yet,
at the same time, give due prominence to the spiritual and moral
realities ofthe Gospel? M'hy may we not keep the spiritual and
the ritual fairiy abreast one of the other ? ' Such a question admits
of three distinct and categorical answers ; as First — The consti
tution of the human mind forbids the attempt so to hold elements
in equipoise, the very nature of which is not to occupy one and
the same level. Secondly, the actual condition of human nature,
as perversely disposed always to substitute the ritual for the spi
ritual in religion, renders any such attempt to place the two evenly
before the mind, or otherwise than as the Scriptures place them,
in the last degree unwise, nay mischievous. Thirdly, God for
bids this endeavour, bringing as it does his truth upon the very
stage which all false religions have occupied.
If we appeal to history, in attestation of these three answers
to the question put, the whole course of it comes to our aid in
one crowded mass — all confirming each, with undivided force. —
It confirms the first and the second, together, by showing that, as
well among highly civilized communities, as among the rudest,
where the ritual element of religion has been thrown forwards, in
relation to the spiritual, the two have never actually rested for a
moment, as if in equipoise ; but, on the contrary, there has been
an accelerated movement, until the spiritual had entirely subsided,
or retired, leaving nothing but the merest formality, and the
grossest superstition. The third is confirmed by all those instances
in which it has become manifest that an influence holier and
mightier than that which man can originate, has been at work
within the Church ; for in every such case, the two elements have
instantly, and as if by a natural gravitation, resumed their due
places— that is to say, they have gone into the relative position
which they occupied in the apostolic church — the spiritual and the
moral foremost, and uppermost ; and the ritual, not excluded, but
held in its subordination. Moreover, the first symptom of decay
and decline, has ever been — a revival of the ritual part of refigion,
as a mass of solemn formalism, and of impious mummeries : — the
Ichabod of the church has ever borne this very interpretation.
But there is another, and perhaps a more conclusive, or a more

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY.

249

affecting confirmation of the same great principle, afforded by
those signal, single instances, in which eminent and sincerely
religious men have laboured, and laboured in vain, from the com
mencement to the end of their public course, to hold the two
elements of Christianity, the spiritual and the ritual, in equipoise.
None have spent their strength, in this endeavour, under more
advantageous circumstances than did the illustrious John Chry
sostom. Nor is there any one of the nicene fathers to whom an
appeal of this sort might be made, with the hope of its being
more satisfactory or more exempt from exceptions of every kind ;
none surpassed him altogether in acquaintance with the Scriptures,
in breadth and richness of intellect, in fervour of piety, vigour of
character, eloquence, and influence. To name any one of his
distinguished contemporaries of the greek church, rather than
himself, would seem to be an intentional disparagement of the
sacramental cause. To name Augustine, would not be conclusive,
inasmuch as his reputation, as a theological authority, is questioned
in this case, and is ambiguous. What could an opponent gain
by putting in the place of the archbishop of Constantinople, either
the bishop of Milan, or the crabbed monk of Bethlehem, or
the bishop of Caesarea, or Nazianzen, or Nyssen ? and how much
would they put in peril, by any such substitution.
Now if we take this great divine as our conclusive instance, it
will appear that the whole of his ecclesiastical course was a
struggle, an agony, incited by the vehement endeavour to keep
in equipoise, the spiritual and the ritual elements of religion.
How does he toil and pant in this bootless task ! Personally too
much alive to the spiritual and vital reality of the christian
scheme to be quietly wifling, like most of his contemporaries, to
let it subside, and totally disappear ; and yet far too deeply
imbued with, at once, the gnostic and the brahminical feeling,
and too intimately compromised, as a pubfic person, with the
' church doctrines' of the times, he could never rest as did others ;
but was ever tossing from side to side, like one borne helplessly
on by an impetuous tide, through a narrow and winding Helles
pont ; — now thrown upon the steep asiatic shore, and now, as by
a sudden eddy, carried right athwart the current, toward the
european shallows. Few great writers offer so little repose as

250 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
Chrysostom : few present contrasts so violent ; and they are con
trasts of apparent intention, as if his own guiding motive — his
cynosure, had been a binary star, shedding contrary influences
upon his course : and so it was in fact. Scarcely is there a
homily all of a piece ; hardly are there two consecutive passages
that can be read without a surprise, amounting to a painful per
plexity, until the secret of all this contrariety is understood ; and
then it becomes manifest enough that, within the writer's soul, a
spiritual Christianity, which shoidd have heen uppermost, was ever
wrestling with church doctrines, and gnostic sentiments, which
toould be uppermost. From no one of the nicene fathers might ex
tracts be made so nearlj' satisfactory to a protestant ear : from no
one may there be gathered wilder extravagances, such as the papist
makes his boast of: and from no divine of any age or communion,
could such instances be adduced of the two kinds in intimate
combination. Nevertheless the convulsive effort spent itself in vain : — the
laws of human nature, and its perversity, and, not less, the eternal
constitutions of heaven prevailed, and severally took their proper
effect. Chrysostom left nicene Christianity what he found it — a
religion of asceticism, and of sacraments, and of high ' church
principles.' And if we want proof of this, we may either look to
the well-known condition of the greek church, in the next age,
or into his own writings, and especially into those parts of them
in which from the nature of the subject, and the occasion, the real
relative position of the superior and the inferior elements of reli
gion, is conspicuously placed before us. To such an instance I
will now appeal, and I do so with the confidence that it ought to
be accepted as satisfactory and conclusive, and that it wfll be so
accepted by the candid inquirer.
What is christian repentance ? is it a refined species of natural
remorse ? is it, as compared with philosophical reform, a better
omened endeavour of the moral nature, to purify itself, and set
out anew on the path of virtue ? or is it not rather a deep and
lasting commotion of the affections, the moral sentiments, origi
nated from above, and having for its impulse, and its centre,
those facts and principles which are peculiar to the Gospel ? I
assume that this is the true description, or, at least, the truer of

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY.

251

the two ; and then it will follow that, if a well-informed and de
vout writer, and a leader of opinion, is found treating a subject
such as this, which may be called the preliminary of piety, and
which touches intimately and directly the rudiments of Christi
anity — if such a writer shall be found so treating this subject, as
that the practical result, upon the mass of minds, shall be to
favour their own perverse propensity to addict themselves to the
forms and the austerities of refigion, and to forget its higher
elements, then, and in such an instance, we are clearly justified
in affirming that the Christianity of the age had slid from its ori
ginal foundations, and had become effectively corrupt.
Let us then give more than a moment's attention to Chryso
stom's treatise on Repentance* — a careful composition, extending
through nine homilies. We may therefore well look into it with
the expectation of finding there a fair sample of the writer's prin
ciples, and mode of teaching. In advancing upon this ground I
especially challenge the reader's attention to those passages which
I may cite or refer to — and with pleasure — of a redeeming quality,
that is to say, evangelical and animating, and nearly allied to
our protestant notions, inasmuch as they show that the sacramen
tal principles, and the ' church doctrines,' which at the same time
the preacher laboured so strenuously to maintain, possessed, in
this instance, all the advantage they could derive from their being
associated with the better elements of Christianity. It is not as
if I were here adducing some one of the blind and florid orators
of the same age, whose enormities of superstition are barely, or
not at all relieved, by any indications of genuine pious feeling.
Who is there that shall come after Chrysostom, and hope to give
the ritual principle a better chance than he gave it, of recom
mending itself to our approval? Moreover, I must ask the rea
der to keep in view the striking indications he will meet with, as
we go on, of the connexion of the celibate with Chrysostom's
theological system, of which in fact it was the master-principle. f
* Tom. ii. pp. 328—414.
t To preclude any objection, I will premise a note of the learned editor,
concerning the last three homilies. ' The seventh, eighth, and ninthhomilies
do not offer the same indications of genuineness (as the other). The style is
inferior to that of Chrysostom in elegance j and therefore it is not without

252 FURTHER MEANS OF LSTIMATING THE
The homilies on Repentance were pronounced on successive
Sundays, to his flock (at Antioch) after an absence in the country
for the recovery of his health, during which, as he declares, their
welfare and themselves were ever present to his mind. They
express therefore, not the hurried emotions of an overburdened
public course, but the calm and refreshed sentiments that return
upon a wefl-ordered mind, in a season of seclusion — seclusion
amidst the scenes of nature ; and when the perturbations of the
soul, and its ambition, have been stflled by the languors of dis
ease. Now certainly we shafl find the christian preacher himself
The first of these homilies is occupied chiefly with illustrations
of the opposite dangers of desperation, or despondency, and of
inertness, or indifference, in religion. Among these illustrations,
and for the purpose of checking despondency (as promoted by
the novatian doctrine) the preacher adduces the parable of the
prodigal son, proving, as it does, that reTpentance is possible, and
the remission of sins attainable, after baptism — a point elsewhere
held to be very doubtful. ' The prodigal son answers,' says Chry
sostom, ' to those who fall after baptism ; he does so, inasmuch
as he is called a son ; for none are sons apart from baptism, with
which are connected all the benefits of heirship, and a commu
nity of interests with the family. He is called moreover the bro
ther of him who was approved ; but there is no fraternity (in the
Church) without the spiritual regeneration' (baptism). The
second homily opens in a manner very characteristic of the
preacher's style. 'Last sunday did ye witness a fight and a
victory ? the fight of the devil, and the victory of Christ ? Have ye
seen the commendation of repentance, and the wound of the devfl,
and how, unable to bear it, he trembled and shuddered ? Where
fore didst thou fear, O Devfl, whfle repentance was commended ?
why groan ? why shudder ? I have reason enough, says he, to
groan, and be vexed, for this same repentance snatches from me
my choicest treasures.'
some scruple, that we leave them standing among his undoubted wntmgs ;
and yet we have not thought it proper to set them aside, especially considenng
(as we have elsewhere stated) that our holy doctor is not always himself as
it regards language and manner : other homilies indeed we have in hand, on
the s'ame subject, which, as being manifestly spurious, we have thrown into
the Appendi,^.'

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 253
' — The first course or path of repentance is — Confession: Come
to church, and acknowledge your sin : come, if you are a sinner,
that you may profess repentance : come, if you are one of the
just, that you fdU not from your righteousness.' Some indeed
would lay the foundation of (christian) repentance a little lower,
and speak, first of all, of that conviction of guilt, impotency, and
danger, which the Spirit infuses, and which takes its force from
the doctrine of the atonement. Not so the divine before us, who
introduces 'no topic of this sort. ' Sinner ! be beforehand with
the devil — put him out of his office, which is that of accuser.
Enter the church, and say to God — I have sinned. Nothing else
do I ask of thee : . . . . acknowledge sin, that thou mayest
cancel sin !' Then follow various examples in point.
But there is a second means of repentance, ' and what may that
be ? Mourning for sin. Hast thou sinned? Mourn, and thou shalt
absolve sin. Is this a great matter ? Nothing more do I require
of thee, than this — to mourn for sin ?' In confirmation of which
doctrine the instances are adduced, to wit Ahab, and the Nin-
evites. There is however a third means of repentance ; ' for I have
mentioned many, that the way of salvation may be made the
more easy to thee : and what is that third way ? Humility. Be
lowly in mind, and thou hast broken the bonds of thy sins.' The
proof and instance we have in the parable of the pharisee and the
publican ; but the way in which Chrysostom treats this instance
demands to be noticed. ' The pharisee retired from the temple,
having, through his arrogance and uncharitableness, lost his
SiKaioavyrj, whereas the publican, by his humiliation, had acquired
what he had not before.' But here we might ask, whether, in
fact, the pharisee had any genuine righteousness to lose ? let this
however pass, whfle we endeavour to ascertain, from what foflows,
our preacher's notion of this same humflity, which is one of the
elements of true repentance. ' The publican's humifity then, after
all, barely deserved the name ; since his confession — I am a sin
ner, was nothing more than the mere truth ; but humifity indeed
is shown when one who is really great humbles himself. Now
who is a sinner if a publican be not one ? . . . . Wherefore if even
this publican, sinner as he was, obtained so great a boon — ^justifi-

254 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
cation, by humfliation ; how much rather shall he be so favoured,
who, while he is 'eyaperoc, a proficient in virtue, nevertheless
humbles himself? Wherefore, if thou confess thy sins, and hum-
hie thyself, thou becomest just. But wouldst thou learn who
it is that is truly humble ? Look at Paul ; he was humble indeed.
Paul the teacher of the wide world— Paul the spiritual orator, the
elect vessel, the unbiflowed harbour, the unshaken tower — Paul
who, little as he was, traversed the worid, moving from land to
land as if winged — look at such a one, esteeming himself so
little — unlearned, although a phflosopher; poor, although rich;
such a one, I call humble indeed, who endured innumerable toils,'
&c. &c. Then follows a page nearly of that sort of adulatory ex
aggeration, lifting Paul to the pinnacle of praise, and above it,
which so often offends the ear in the patristic pulpit oratory : the
purport of the whole being to show, by the comparison between
the publican and the Apostle, how great and sure must be the 'jus
tifying efficacy' of humility, if, even when it consisted in the sim
ple confession of a naked truth, it procured this boon, falling far
short as it did of the transcendental humiliation of such a holy
doctor and illustrious philosopher as Paul !
I do not know how this may sound in other ears ; but in mine
it sounds fll ; and it seems to imply a sad misunderstanding of
the true grounds and properties of christian humility. Not very
unlike is it to what one may find in the ' Ethics' of a famous
pagan, much read and esteemed in certain high places ; but alto
gether unlike any thing found in the New Testament — unless it
be the portrait of the pharisee in the parable, and of his feflows.
Chrysostom does in effect put the feefing of the — ' God, I thank
thee, I am not as other men,' into the lips of the Apostle, who
surely, from the moment that the light shone upon him in the road
to Damascus, had renounced every such notion of his own merits,
as well as of the merit of his renunciation of merit.
' You have forgotten the course of the argument last sunday —
and where we left off. Is it not so ? But I wfll not upbraid you ;
you have your famflies to mind, your homes to take care of, your
services to fulfil, your crafts to follow, while we think of nothing
but these sacred themes. Wefl ; be it so ; I commend you, at
least, that, leaving every thing, you come to church, without fail,

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 255
on a Sunday.' Thus, in substance, opens the third homily. I
hope I shall not seem to be advancing a captious refinement in
saying that, when the preacher returns to his theme, he makes a
representation which is doctrinally erroneous, and big with prac
tical mistakes : let us hear him. ' I have said that many and
various are the roads of repentance, so that salvation may be ren
dered the more easy. For if He had given us one only way, -we
might have rejected it, saying we cannot follow that path, and
therefore cannot be saved. But now cutting off from thee any
such pretext, he hath afforded thee, not one way only, nor a se
cond only ; nor a third only ; but many, and different ; so that
by the multitude of them the ascent to heaven may be rendered as
easy to thee as possible !'
Surely this is at the best blind teaching, and so blind as to bor
der upon sheer nonsense, and nonsense of the worst tendency : or
if sense, then downright error. So far as there could be any good
sense attached to Chrysostom's statement in his former homilies,
that there are 'several paths of repentance,' it must mean that re
pentance has various ingredients, or conditions each indispensable,
and altogether, necessary to its perfection ; but here we find him
as it were standing on the plain, and pointing to the mount of
God, and saying, Yonder is the heavenly hill; and how indul
gently has He dealt with you, who invites you thither ; for he has
opened many paths, each of which leads to the gate; and if you
find one of them to be too steep, or rugged, or on any account not
agreeable, you may turn and take another. That is to say — if
you don't relish confession, shed a plenty of tears, and that will
do ; or if tears are not fleet enough with you, practise humiliation,
and that will do ; and then he goes on to open yet other paths,
each independent of the other, and each infallible. If this be
not merely foolish, it is intensely false doctrine ; and whether it be
most foolish, or most false, it could not be otherwise than in the
last degree pernicious. What, however, we have to notice par
ticularly is the secret consistency of errors, such as these, with
the master error of the ancient church — the independent efficacy
of the mere sacraments, when duly solemnized. The same prin
ciple which led Chrysostom to tell the people — ' only let us dip
you, and you are regenerate, justified, and ready for heaven,'

256 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
impelled him to say also — This mode of penitence, or that, or
that, duly made use of will save you ; and one of them nearly as
well as another.
'But the fourth road of repentance! and what may that be?
Almsgiving! — the queen of virtues, and the readiest of all -ways
of getting into heaven, and the best advocate there.' Then fol
lows the egregious passage, concerning the combined merits of
almsgiving and virginity, of which I have already produced a
sufficient sample. In this instance however it appears that the
two courses must coincide ; that is to say, how straightforward
soever may be the road to heaven through virginity, you may not
think to walk in it unaccompanied by almsgiving ! Nothing can
be much more distinct than is language such as the following. —
' Thou hast therefore the capital (species of) repentance by alms
giving ; which is able to absolve thee from the bonds of thy sins ;
and yet again thou hast another path of repentance, most easy, by
which thou mayest get a discharge from thy sins. Pray every
hour.' It may be said, all this is only an incautious mode of
strongly stating the force and efficacy of humility, of charity, of
prayer, and so forth ; and that, with a little trimraing, it may
all be understood in a good sense. But was it likely to be so
understood by the mass of the people, and especially when they
were constantly exposed to the same fll-judged and delusive mode
of teaching ? Or, to put another question, tending to the same
point — Is any such indiscretion of style faflen into by men who
themselves understand the gospel scheme of salvation, and who
moreover well know how prone men are to find out, and to follow
some by-path to heaven ? It is not, in fact, untfl after the Church
has long lost its hold of the truth, that men of so much intelli
gence, fervour, and upright intention, as belonged to Chrysostom,
are found using language so dark and fatal.
Our great preacher, as he goes along, takes care, from time to
time, to make the people understand that it is ' in church' that a
truce with heaven, on whatever terms obtained, is to be ratified.
' Hast thou sinned ? Enter the church, and wipe out thy sin.'
The fourth homily treats of the consolations of repentance ;
among which are those derived from the instances afforded in
Script°ure of its efficacy ; and we are moreover told to foflow the

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 257
example of the saints, proficients in philosophy, who did not
suffer themselves either to be depressed by calamities, or elated
by prosperity. We are moreover to betake ourselves to God,
who is ever accessible. ' At all times, beloved, let us take refuge
in God, who is at once willing and able to release us from our
misfortunes : it is otherwise in our approaches to men .... But
as to God, there intervenes nothing of the sort between us and
him, who may be entreated, without a mediator (it is not to be
imagined that Chrysostom here intends to exclude the mediatorial
office of Christ) without -vi'ealth, without cost, he yields to prayer ;
sufficient is it to cry out from the heart, and to offer tears, and
immediately entering in, thou mayest draw him to thy part.'
Let our preacher have the benefit of all that is rational and
scriptural in this passage, without deduction on the score of its
questionable phraseology.
The fifth of these homilies is esteemed as one of Chrysostom's
happiest compositions : is then its subject the gracious infiuence
of the Holy Spirit in softening the heart, and in consoling it ? Is
it the power and willingness of Christ to deliver the penitent
from guflt and fear ? is it the sufficiency of the atonement ? or
the efficacy of the Redeemer's mediation ? No such themes occupy
the eloquent preacher on this occasion ; but instead of them we
have — The efficacy and merits of Fasting ! Need we ask whether
evangelic warmth, and purity of doctrine, or whether a dead and
delusive formalism was the characteristic of the nicene church?
But let us push our way through the applauding crowd, toward
the preacher : with what a trumpet blast does he usher in — is
it the Saviour, the King of Glory ? no, alas ! but the awful per
sonage whom he challenges as a tremendous prince — Fasting !
terrible indeed ; yet not to christians, but to the race of demons !
His approach is, to us, like that of some august monarch, when
his entrance into his capital is a^nnounced ! and yet, if we may
credit the intimate confessions of an illustrious modern pro
fessor of ' church doctrines,' this same awful personage wears
sometiraes a very grim visage, even when looked at by his meek
est admirers ; so much so, as that the favour of a few hours of
his company has driven the votary, nolens volens, to seek the
consolations of ' tea with cream and buttered toast ! ' But we

258 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
hasten from the cloisters of Oxford to the great church at Antioch,
and step back from the Christianity of the nineteenth century, to
that of the fourth.
' Wouldst thou learn what an ornament to men is — Fasting,
and what a guard and preservative ? Look well to the monastic
tribe, blessed and admirable as it is ! For these, fleeing from the
tumults of common life, and running away to the summits of
mountains, rear their huts in the tranquil wflderness, moored as
it were in a sheltered creek, and thither lead with them fasting,
as the companion of their fives. Wherefore it — (fasting) makes
angels of them, men as they are. Nor these alone (the eremites)
hut those also (the coenobites) who, in the midst of cities, by the
same means reach the pitch of phflosophy. . . . Wherefore God,
at the moment when he made man, instantly committed him into
the hands of Fasting as to a loving mother, and excellent mistress,
entrusted with his safety. . . If then fasting were indispensable
even in paradise,* how much more so out of paradise ? If this
antidote were beneficial before the wound had been received, how
much more after ? . . . Hast thou observed how God's anger was
kindled by a contempt put upon fasting? (in Adam's sin). Learn
how he is pleased when it is honoured ! ' Then follow the scripture
instances ; among them that of Peter (the immediate subject,
fasting, having been dropt) who notwithstanding his denying his
Master, was, after a brief but fervent penitence, restored to his
dignity as ' the prasfect of the universal church.' But to return
to the virtues of fasting ; see the instance of Daniel, and of the
three chfldren. How was it that the body of the one escaped the
teeth of the lions, and the bodies of the others the power of the
furnace ? — ' Ask Fasting, and it shall answer thee, and clear up
this enigraa. But inasmuch as physicians recommend that power
ful remedies should not be administered upon a full stomach,
lest they be too much for the strength of the patient, so should
our use of that potent drug, Fasting, be preceded by a degree of
moderation. But if it be resorted to when the body has already
been somewhat reduced, and the mind sobered, it, to (pappamv,
win the more surely avail for the purging ofthe multitude of old
sins.' It is worthy of notice that, whereas in the exordium of
" Gen. ii. 16.

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 259
this homily. Fasting is introduced as an august prince, in the
peroration, he makes his appearance in a new character (and so
regarded by too many) as a wild beast. Moreover, in what sense
practicafly our preacher's doctrine was understood by the mass
of the people, may be gathered from such indications as these.
' If I shall ask you, Why have you been to the bath to-day ?
you reply. To cleanse the body, in preparation for the fast. But
if I ask. And why did you get drunk (yesterday) ? again thou
wilt reply. Because I am to fast to-day.' So much for this ela
borate discourse upon the duty and benefits of fasting, as a way
or means of repentance ! Apart from the customary doxology at
the end, neither the love of God, nor the grace of the Lord Jesus
Christ, nor the communion of the Holy Spirit, has any place or
part in this celebrated sermon.
The sixth homily resumes the subject of fasting, and offers
some rational corrective advices, to those who had just practised it;
dehorting the people from the customary rush toward the amuse
ments of the theatre, or, as we may say, of the carnival. Nothing
affecting our present purpose, or nothing new, offers itself in this
sermon. The next, the genuineness of which need not be ques
tioned on account of its doctrine, affords instances of that celerity
in passing from the spiritual or evangelic to the formal side of
any subject, which is the characteristic of the nicene writings.
When the eye is caught by a text which might suggest a strain of
a happier kind, a disappointment almost always ensues ; and if
there be two admissible modes of commenting upon a passage of
Scripture, the one which is the most ambiguous, and the most open
to a dangerous misconception, is most often the one adopted. ' In
the gospel for to-day, ye have heard the Saviour saying to the
paralytic — Son, thy sins which are many, are forgiven thee. Now
the forgiveness of sins is the well-spring of salvation, and the pre
mium, iiradXov, of repentance. Repentance is the efficacious remedy
of sin ; a heavenly gift, an admirable power, a gracious victory
over the penalty of laws.' How much better a method of popular
teaching is it to insist rather upon the first cause, than upon the
proximate causes of our defiverance from guilt and condemnation !
Further on in this seventh homily, there is a repetition which
the preacher excuses, on account of the importance he attaches to

260 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
the subject, of his doctrine concerning the afl-avafling merits of
almsgiving, and with an addition which could not but thicken the
darkness already shed upon the one and only path of salvation.
It seems as if Chrysostom were doing his utmost to put out of
view the true principle of christian beneficence, and to substitute
the most sordid and mercenary motives. Condensing the para
graph, the substance of it is to this effect^ — If a cup of cold water,
which costs nothing, merits, and shall obtain its reward ; with how
vast a reward shall the equitable Judge remunerate munificent
charities, and the costly bestowment of garments, money, and the
like. Should we regard the following, as any thing more than a
foolish extravagance, certainly of very ill tendency ? ' He that
pitieth the poor, lendeth to the Lord. Now if we lend to God,
we make him our debtor. Which of the two then wouldst thou
have him to be — thy debtor, or thy judge ? The debtor reverences
his creditor; the judge has no respect for the debtor.'
Among the many repetitions which occur in these homflies, one
hopes to find amended in one place, what has been wrongly put in
another : but the preacher's own mind having too far lost its hold
of the great principle of the Gospel, he does but diversify a little
his confused notions of the scheme of salvation. Thus, in the
early part ofthe eighth homily, he seems to be approaching a better
doctrine, whfle speaking of the divine mercy | and yet hardly
reaches higher than to the level of a ' gospel according to David.'
Seldom, that is to say three or four times, in the course of this
elaborate treatise, does he satisfy the christian ear ; as thus : —
' Such is the goodness of God, that to save a servant, he spared
not his only Son ; delivering up his only-begotten, that he might
redeem his unthankful servants, and laying down the blood of his
Son as the price of their deliverance. Oh the goodness of the
Lord ! Say not then to me again, I have sinned much, how can
I be saved ? Thou art not able to effect this, but thy Lord is able,
and so as even to blot out thy transgressions.'
Few, and far between, are passages of this sort. When they
occur, they serve to confirm our general conclusion, that a religious
system, combining capital errors with something, or even much
of what is true, still takes its character, as a practical doctrine,
from its errors rather than from its truths. So it has always been

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 261
with popery, and so was it, as history clearly shows, with the
greek church : which became altogether such as the nicene
delusions tended to make it, a religion of superstition, of formalism,
and of the most puerfle mummeries. What the actual effect of
Chrysostom's own preaching was, may be gathered but too plainly
from his constant tone and style, which do not seem to imply
that he felt himself to be addressing spiritually minded and con
sistent christians; but rather the loose church-going and play-
going rabble, high and low, of a debauched and luxurious city.
That his congregation was actually of this sort, is, I think, a fact
that is borne on the face of all his homilies. Moreover, the sig
nificant though usual consequence of exaggerating the ritual part
of religion at the cost of the spiritual, namely, that the rites them
selves came to be contemned by a large portion of the people, is
also apparent. It is nothing but a straightforward and energetic
teaching of Truth — spiritual truth, that can bring even the rites
of religion into general esteem. In corroboration of this princi
ple, it may be well to cite a passage or two from the ninth and
last homily on Repentance, especially as we shall at the same
time obtain a specimen of our preacher's style of speaking of the
eucharistic rite — lauded more than the Saviour, and nevertheless
held in contempt by the people, in spite of the preacher's
vehement upbraidings.
Toward the close of this ninth homily (and of the treatise)
Chrysostom turns toward those who, even during the hour when
the rites of the ' dreadful and mystic table' were celebrating,
lounged their time away in idle company, and who, in doing so,
belied the profession they had just made in taking part in the
liturgical language. ' Art thou not afraid, dost thou not blush,
to be found a liar at that very hour ? What ! the mystic table
has been prepared ; the Lamb of God for thee is slaughtered ;
the priest for thee contends — the spiritual fire from the sacred
table ascends ; the cherubim holding their stations about, the
seraphim hovering around, and the six-winged veiling their
faces, whfle for thee all the incorporeal orders, along with the
priest, intercede. The spiritual fire descends ; and for thy puri
fication, the blood from the spotless side is emptied into the cup ;
and thou, dost thou neither tremble nor blush, to be found false
T

262 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
(to thy professions) at this dread hour? A hundred sixty and
eight hours are there in the week, and one only of these has God
set apart for himself; and this one dost thou devour in worldly
business, in merriment, or in any thing that may chance to come
in thy way ! With what assurance then canst thou afterwards
(at any other time) approach the mysteries ? with a conscience
how defiled ! Wouldst thou dare, with dung in thy hands, to
touch the skirts of an earthly monarch ? Far from it. Not as
bread shouldst thou look at that (bread) neither esteem that (cup)
as wine ; for not fike other aliraent do these (elements) descend
into the draught. Far be it; think no such thing, for just as
wax, held to the fire, suffers no detriment, as to its substance,
although melted all away ; in like manner hold it to be true, that
the substance of the mysteries is absorbed by the body (of the
participant) : wherefore, when ye approach (the table) think not
that ye receive the divine body, as from the hand of man ; but
rather as was the fire from the tongs of the very seraphim given
to Isaiah ! '
Although not inseparably connected with my immediate argu
ment, I feel it impossible to pass the above-cited passage without
directing the clerical reader to a comparison, which indeed can
hardly have faded to force itself upon his own mind while reading
it. Is the style, and obvious popular import, of Chrysostom's
language, as here quoted, one and the same with that of the
Church of England ? I would put it to any clergyman, whether
he could think it one and the same thing to read, before the
communion, this specimen of nicene Christianity, or the ex
hortation actually appointed to be read, ' In case the minister
shafl see the people negfigent,' &c. What dignity, what simpfi
city, what fervour, in the one : what extravagance, what super
stition, what revolting presumption in the other ! I verily befieve
that even the most thorough-going of the Oxford Tract divines,
would shudder at the thought of such a substitution ; and I am
sure the majority of the clergy would regard it as nothing less
than a treason to the protestant church to admit it. There may
perhaps be a distinction, which however I have never been able
to retain my hold of, between the nicene doctrine of the eucharist,
and that of the church of Rome ; hut whatever acute analytic

QUALITY OP THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 263
minds may make of such a distinction, this is clear enough, that,
in the view of the people at large, the two doctrines are not two,
but one, practically the same, and alike tending to fix the gross
apprehensions of the people upon the mere rite, to the exclusion
of whatever is spiritual in religion.
Opportunity, I hope, will be afforded me, when the ground
has been cleared for that purpose, for placing in broad contrast
the nicene and the english churches, which, allied as they may
be by the retention of half a dozen ambiguous phrases, differ
substantially, and immeasurably. Such a contrast, extreme as it
is in its essential features, would warrant an appeal to the honour
and conscience, to the good sense, and to the christian feeling of
every clergyman, to this effect — Do you adhere to the nicene
fathers, or to the english reformers ?
We have reviewed Chrysostom's nine homflies on repentance.
I can imagine no reason why this set of sermons should not be
appealed to as a fair sample of the doctrine, and of the ordinary
style, of the great nicene divines. Whatever it presents which
may startle our modern and protestant ears, may be matched with
the greatest ease, from the pages of the same writer, and his
contemporaries ; nor would any purpose be answered by demur
ring at the sense attributed to this or that phrase, or passage.
Chrysostom's meaning, to the very same effect, may be gathered
from many other places.
The reader has seen upon what points of doctrine and practice
the preacher chiefly, and the most earnestly, if not exclusively,
insists : — we have heard him, most incautiously, recommending
the several accompaniments, or ingredients, of repentance, as
severally sufficient for securing salvation ; — a mode of speaking
as grossly delusive as any thing that is met with in the worst
romish writers ofthe worst times. It has moreover appeared that,
while extraordinary importance is attached hy him to almsgiving,
as a direct means of salvation, the preacher reserves his choicest
rhetoric, as a free-will offering, to be laid upon the altar of
celestial virginity : this he feels to be the real strength of the
system he is upholding.
But now, what is it that we do not find, in these noted
homiHes ? Alas ! some few phrases allowed for, what we do not
T 2

264 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
find is — Christianity itself In particular, there is barely any
thing, although the subject seems necessarily to involve it, con
cerning the work of the Holy Spirit, in softening and renewing
the callous and depraved affections of man. No, for in the place
of the work of the Spirit, we have the wonders of the ' justi
fying pool.' There are two or three passages, affirming the
remission of sins through the merits of Christ's death ; but then
neither is this truth expanded, abstractedly, nor is it connected
with Paul's doctrine of justification by faith, nor, which is the
worst omission (because it impfies a positive error) is the vicarious
work of Christ in any way represented as the spring or reason
of genuine repentance. This is surely a fatal deficiency.
Another omission, highly significant as it respects our present
purpose, must be noticed, namely — the absence of any of those
pointed cautions which a well-informed christian minister, know
ing what human nature is, invariably introduces when he is
insisting upon the accessories of piety. Let us suppose that a
preacher is urging upon his hearers the importance of prayer,
humflity, alms-giving, and the like, as indispensable accompani
ments of a genuine repentance, wfll he fail to warn the formal,
and the self-righteous, of the danger of a pharisaic substitution bf
these things, for the grace, and power, and merit ofthe Saviour?
Very few, now-a-days, would approach Chrysostom's incautious
style in these instances, nor any but the most blind omit those
correctives apart from which this mode of teaching reaches the
flagitious quafity ofthe worst heresy.
Nicene Christianity then, taken in its fairest samples, and
weit^hed in the balances of common sense and Scripture, or put
in the scales of the Church of England, and compared with the
articles and homilies, and with the lives and writings of the
eno-lish reformers, is it not found wanting? Does it not wefl
deserve our indignant reprobation, when it is proposed to us as
our model and authority ? By nicene Christianity must be meant,
if any thing is meant, not a shadowy form of things, which we
may fondly imagine to have had place somewhere, we know not
where, and to have been in its perfection at some time, we know
not when ; but precisely the system, doctrinal, ritual, and eccle
siastical, which meets us in passing up and down through the

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THKOLOGY, 265
extant works of the divines of the third, fourth, and fifth cen
turies. This then is the system which, although it has long been
reverenced under favour of a disingenuous concealment, must
fall into contempt, nothing can save it, when once it comes
to be fully understood. Let but a patient hearing he given to
the naked evidence, and the result is inevitable ; nor can it be
long delayed.
There is yet a consideration suggested, not remotely, by the
instance I have adduced above. — Let it be said that neither Chry
sostom, nor his contemporaries, whatever may seem to be the
import of their language, held the doctrines we hear them some
times affirming, uncorrected, in a sufficient degree, by the vital
principles of Christianity.
Be it so then, that the ' church principles ' so strenuously
maintained by the nicene divines, were in fact, although we cannot
perceive it, duly balanced by more spiritual elements ; and, in a
word, that the counterpoise was just such as we might wish to see
realized among ourselves. But how is any such hypothesis sus
tained by history ? — if there be any meaning in history.
The florid orators, bishops, and great divines of the fourth
century, we find, one and afl, throughout the east, throughout the
west, throughout the african church, lauding and lifting to the
skies whatever is formal in religion, whatever is external, acces
sory, ritual, ecclesiastica] : it was upon these things that they spent
their strength ; it was these that strung their energies, these that
fired their souls. Virginity they put first and foremost; then came
maceration of the body, tears, psalm-singing, prostrations on the
bare earth, humiliations, alms-giving, expiatory labours and suffer
ings, the kind offices of the saints in heaven, the wonder-working
efficacy of the sacraments, the unutterable powers of the clergy :
these were the rife and favoured themes of animated sermons, and
of prolix treatises ; and such was the style, temper, spirit, ana
practice of the Church, from the banks of the Tigris, to the shores
of the Atlantic, and from the Scandinavian morasses, to the
burning sands of the great desert ; such, so far as our extant
materials give us any information. And all this was what it
should have been ! and this is what now we should be tending
toward !

266 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
But what was the condition of the (so called) christian church,
as thus taught, trained, and hopefully sent forward by the nicene
fathers, within the short period of two hundred years ? Well
would it be if this condition, as well of the east as of the west,
at the opening of the seventh century, were better understood
among us than it appears to be : we should then entirely leave
off blaming the church of Rome, as having debauched the christian
world ; and should retreat with alarm, with pity, with disgust,
from nicene Christianity.
Within the short period of two hundred years from the death of
Chrysostom, and within less than a century from the death of the
men whom he and his contemporaries had trained, and while stfll
the nicene system retained its integrity, Mahomet broke upon the
world, and the tempest of heresy which he raised came as a blast
of health upon the nations. What Mahomet and his caliphs
found in all directions whither their scimitars cut a path for
them, was a superstition so abject, an idolatry so gross and shame
less, church doctrines so arrogant, church practices so dissolute
and so puerile, that the strong-minded Arabians felt themselves
inspired anew as God's messengers to reprove the errors of the
world, and authorized as God's avengers to punish apostate
Christendom. The son of the bond-woman was let loose from his
deserts, to ' mock ' and to chastise the son of the free- woman.
We read, in the story of the moslem conquests, a commentary,
written by the finger of God, upon nicene Christianity. Or if
we wifl not in that terrible history acknowledge God's displeasure
against this system of fraud, folly, and impiety, we can hardly
refuse to listen to the notices contained in the koran and the
mahometan writers, of the impression that had been made upon
the arabian mind by the spectacle of the debauched Christianity
of the greek and african churches. It is here that we may the
most surely learn what was the actual result of the system
embodied in the writings of Chrysostom, Basfl, Gregory, Cyril,
and their contemporaries.
Does it seem then, when we come to look into history, as if
these same ' church principles,' were indeed the true and wisely-
chosen vehicles and preservatives of genuine Christianity ? Are
the notions we may have indulged of their exceflence and sane-

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 267
tity, altogether confirmed by our researches among the ecclesiastical
remains of the times of Gregory I. and Mahomet ? What has
become of common sense, to say nothing of philosophy, if we
are not, on the contrary, to aflow that the evidence of history
frowns altogether upon these false and pernicious doctrines, and
declares that to exalt the ritual elements of refigion into a posi
tion of equality with the spiritual, is a course more certainly
fatal to christian principles than that of propagating heresies.
It is, besides, a task of no difficulty to show that, although
nicene Christianity and the popery of the middle ages differ in
various incidental points, the former passed into the latter in the
course of an easy and inevitable transition ; and moreover, that,
in respect of apostolic Christianity, the one was to the full as
fatally delusive as the other ; while as a practical system, or
scheme of ecclesiastical despotism, the latter might well be
accepted in the place of the former. A careful comparison, article
by article, of the two systems (if two) embodied in the writings
of Chrysostom and Bernard, respectively, would, on the whole,
such is my persuasion, leave an advantage on the side of that
professed by the latter.
Yet so complicated are all human affairs, especially such as are
mixed up with matters of opinion, that inferences the most con
vincing to plain understandings, drawn from the actual operation
and issue of either a religious or a political system, may easily be
evaded. Putting such evasions however out of sight, I would ask
unprejudiced persons, whether the religious history (if we ought
to call it a religious history) of Europe, eastern and western, from
the fifth century downward, to the fifteenth, ought to be admitted
as recommendatory, or as condemnatory of the nicene church
principles ? In other words, does the actual result of the expe
riment which was made on so extensive a scale, and under such a
diversity of circumstances, for proving that Christianity is best
promoted by enhancing its ritual elements— does this result jus
tify or discourage our attempting to repeat it ? Is it, let us can
didly be told, is it with a fair and well-omened promise of a happy
issue, that now again we are to set about the work so zealously
urged forward by the nicene doctors — I mean the work of magni
fying the Church, and its mysteries, and its ministers ; whfle so

268

FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE

much heart and labour only as could then be spared, is allowed
to the endeavour to exalt the spiritual elements of religion !
Against such an enterprise there stands opposed, first the en
tire mass of all experience, as presented on the pages of history ;
and next the whole force of the best h priori calculation we can
make of the tendencies of human nature, when two such elements
are offered, on any thing like even terms, to its choice. But more
than afl, we are, or we should think ourselves, prohibited from
so rash an attempt by the manifest intention of the apostolic
writings, in this very behalf, and by the explicit predictions they
contain of the very corruptions which thence have arisen.
If then it be proposed to us to set about reviving what are
called 'church doctrines', our reply might be— either, that the
whole tenor of church history discourages such an endeavour ; —
or, that the dictates of common sense and sound philosophy de
clare against it ; or — that the spirit and letter of Scripture are
opposed to it. But now it may he said, and as waving any such
conclusions, Is it not possible that, as in one age church princi
ples, relatively, may have been fifted to too high a level, so in
another, and in our own, for instance, they may have been de
pressed below, or far below, the line which marks their due place in
the religious system ? — what then should be done ? are we not to
endeavour to remedy this admitted evil ; and must we not, in such
a case, ought we not, to use all means for restoring what has so
fallen out of its place ? Yes ; but by what means, or in what order
of proceeding are we to make the attempt? Plainly, by endea
vouring to invigorate anew the spiritual forces of piety, and then
it wfll be easy enough, under a wise management, to restore the
ritual elements : nothing is in fact more easy, when once men are
thoroughly awakened to a sense of the infinite importance and
excellence of the great realities of the Gospel, and when such an
awakening spreads through a community — nothing is more easy
than, at such a time, to secure a reverent regard to, and diligent
attendance upon, the exterior means and observances of religion.
It is in this direction only, that what we profess to be aiming at,
can actually be reached. Nothing is more insane — nothing more
preposterous, than the endeavour to ivork upward, in any case, from
the ritual to the spiritual, in religion.

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 269
Look at these two methods as we may imagine them to have
been exemplified in the instance which we have just now had
before us, of the church at Antioch. Chrysostom bitterly lamented
the general indifference of the people of his charge in matters of
religion, and especially their contempt of the Lord's supper.
Now, with the hope of effecting a reform in this single particular,
two courses were fairly open before him ; the one was that which
he actually adopted, namely, the giving the reins to extravagance
in speaking of the rite, and the pouring forth torrents of swelling
words on the subject, telling the people generally, that the eucha
rist and baptism were the main instruments of salvation, and
assuring them, as to the former, that cherubim and seraphim ho
vered trembling over the altar, veiling their faces, lest they should
catch a glimpse of the consecrated elements ; and moreover, add
ing the impious nonsense, that these elements had the miraculous
property of melting away into the animal system ; and that they
never took the course of ordinary aliment !
This was one method of bringing the people back to a reverent
attendance upon the rites of the Church ; and it was the method
chosen and practised by Chrysostom and his contemporaries.
But there is another method (oh that it had been once tried !)
namely, that of zealously and affectionately opening up to the
people the evil mysteries of their own hearts — convincing them of
their sin, danger, and helplessness — speaking to them warmly and
solemnly of the sacred influence which overcomes every obstacle
in the way of man's salvation, and ofthe power and grace of Him
by whom that salvation has been obtained. This is another me
thod, tending not less certainly (far more so) toward the object
at first proposed, namely, that of leading the people on to a reve
rent and profitable attendance upon the external means of grace.
But such was not the method taken, or ever thought of, so far
as we can learn, by the nicene divines. Yet can we ourselves
hesitate in making our choice between the two ?
I must then take the liberty plainly to express the opinion
that the Oxford Tract writers, religiously desirous, as no doubt
they are, to correct what they feel to be the excesses of protes
tantism, and to renovate church authority, to enhance sacramental
reverence, and to deepen ritual solemnity, show themselves to be

270 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
by no means wise master buflders, by commencing their labours,
as they do, at what we must think the wrong end ; and by per
sisting to carry them on in the wrong direction. In that direction
in which they are toiling so hard, even their immediate object is
not to be attained. A people may indeed, by such perilous tam
pering, be led on and beguiled into the swamps of an abject
superstition ; but a genuine and reverent regard to religious rites
and ordinances, will be the result of nothing but an invigorated
promulgation of a pure, apostolic Gospel.
It is surely for the sake of that Gospel — for the sake of the
spiritual realities of Christianity, and not for the mere sake of the
spritual and ecclesiastical elements themselves, that these zealous
and learned men are stirring so deeply the clerical and public mind
at the present moraent. So far, they, and those who may oppose
their endeavours, might seem to be fully agreed ; and then the
controversy would appear to relate merely to the means fittest to
be used, or to the course of proceeding which might be thought the
best for securing the object aimed at by all parties. But such is
far from being the real quality of the controversy ; for, by the op
ponents of the Oxford Tract writers it is alleged, and on no nar
row grounds of experience, that to prosecute this ultimate object
in the mode adopted by the early church, and carried on by the
church of Rome, and now again so earnestly recommended by the
Oxford Tract divines, is not simply (which we might excuse) to
take a longer instead of a shorter course, but to take a course
which, as to the mass of the people, leads to an abyss whence there
is no return ! .From that treacherous border the few would make
their escape heavenward, as the few, in every age, have escaped
from the false bosom of the romish church ; but the many — the
thousands of the people, would become the pitiable victims of this
religion of sacraments.
It would be a delusion as gross as the ancient delusion itself,
to imagine that a refined and spiritualized nicene Christianity, such
a system as is now issuing from the cloisters of Oxford, would
prove itself materially a better scheme than was its original, or than
was the papal church ; or that it would not lead on to the same
spiritual debauchery and tyranny. The principle is one and the
same, and it is one with which neither the Gospel nor the wefl-

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 271
being of society wfll ever consist. If, in fact, this newly refined
gnosticism should retain the highly wrought polish imparted to it
by its modem originators, it would be only so much the more
dangerous ; inasmuch as it would captivate more minds, and be
itself less open to assault. But it would not retain its first refine
ment — no, not through the lifetime of the next series of its ad
herents : the tendencies of human nature are powerful as a deluge,
headed up for a whfle ; and they will take their constant course.
The very youths who, at this moment, are being lulled by the
poisonous atmosphere of the nicene levels, will, twenty years
hence, or sooner, interpret the doctrine they are receiving in a
new, and a more intefligible and consistent sense ; and, in fact,
while they wifl teach the vulgar to revere their deceased masters,
they will themselves, and in private, scorn their memory as scru
pulous devotees, and mock the recollection of their devout sin
cerity. That shall happen to them — the Oxford Tract worthies of
our times, which has happened to the saints of Rome — to be wor
shipped by the rabble, and spit upon by the priests. The plague
not otherwise stayed, a very few years would be enough for bring
ing back upon England, not merely the mummeries always
attendant upon a religion of sacraments, nor merely the filth and
folly, the lies and woes of the ancient monkery, but the palpable
and terrible cruelties of the times of St. Dominic, of Ximenes,
and of Bonner. If there are those who wfll scout any such anti
cipation, as a mere controversial flourish, or rhetorical extrava
gance, or as a disingenuous endeavour, on the part of a writer, to
enlist popular fears and vulgar prejudices on his side, let them
read again the history of Europe, and of the Church, from the
second century downwards, and gather thence what hitherto must
have escaped them — the first principles of human nature, and of
the social system as developed by religious motives.
I cannot conclude this Tract without repeating the profession
I have already made, of an entire exemption from every acri
monious or disrespectful feeling towards the eminent persons
whose public conduct, as divines, I am compelled to speak of in
terms of the strongest reprobation. No one who is accustomed
to think of Athanasius, Chrysostom, Basil, and Ambrose, and
others of that age, as devout and upright men, or to peruse

272 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
the works of romanist writers with pleasure and deference (re
serving always an opinion of their Christianity) can feel it to be
difficult to entertain sentiments of respect and esteem towards men
who are not inferior probably to any of the best of the latter class,
and who, without a doubt, are far more enlightened, as christians,
than were any of the former.

It remains then, and it is a task which may be accomplished
within the limits of the next number, to exhibit the bearing of
the principle and practice of religious celibacy upon the ethical
system, and the actual morals of the ancient church — upon its
ritual institutions, and upon its ecclesiastical, or hierarchical con
stitutions. 'W^e shall then be in a position, or at least so far as so
imperfect a sketch of a very extensive field can put us in position,
for giving a reply to two questions. First, Whether the celibato
and its attendant monkery, be really separable from the other
elements of nicene Christianity; and if not, then, Secondly,
Whether, after the sample we shall have had of the former, we
shall accept and imitate the two, as one system ; or whether we
shall reject both together ?
In acquitting myself of that part of my task which yet lies
before me, while it wfll be unavoidable to adduce, or to refer to,
evidence such as one would have been glad to leave untouched,
I shafl also find a proper opportunity, which, indeed, I am most
anxious to meet with, for giving its due commendation to the
ancient church ; and, in fact, for righting a little the balance
between ancient and modern Christianity. Truth, virtue, and piety,
as a whole, have not been the monopoly of any one age, or com
munion : nor has any body of christians so far, or so completely,
fallen from scriptural excellence, as not to have retained some
specific merits, as compared with other bodies. The ancient
church, while fatally deluded, nevertheless might boast several
such merits ; and some, of a high order ; and it wifl be to per
form at once an edifying, a gratifying, and a consofing office, to
bring these exceflences forward, and to use them as a means of
correcting our own defective modern notions and practices.
I feel perfectly certain that, among those who would the most

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 273
warmly resist the culpable endeavour now making to foist nicene
Christianity into the room of the reformation, there are many
who would gladly and meekly listen to any reasonable reproofs,
or corrections, drawn from the example, the lives, or the teaching
of the early christians, and tending to supply what may be
wanting in, or what may have dropped out of, our protestant
principles or practices. When therefore occasions of this sort
may present themselves, I shall readfly embrace them, not at all
fearing to offend well trained protestant ears. On the contrary,
I am sure it will afford a cordial satisfaction to religious minds to
find that the church has been the Church — a body vivified by
virtue and piety, in every age : nor will this satisfaction be at all
spofled, rather it will be made the more fively, when it happens
that, from such comparisons of age with age, a lesson of humfli
ation comes home to ourselves. There would, I am persuaded,
be no hazard in engaging, on behalf of the sound protestant
community in this country, that, while it would reject with indig
nation the unwise endeavour now made to drive the Church back
upon the foolish, flimsy, and pernicious church principles of the
nicene age, it would meekly submit itself to a correction, drawn
from any bright examples of self-denial, constancy, or devotedness,
which that age may offer.
We, I mean sound protestants, know what human nature is,
and always remember that, while it has never been such as should
make it a fit object of worship, it does not at any time stand
excused from the duty of humbly comparing its rate of wisdom and
goodness with that of other times. We, therefore, neither crouch
before the doctors of the nicene age, any more than we do before
those of any other period ; nor do we utterly condemn any set or
community of our fallible predecessors and brethren. All such
superstitions and all such intolerance we utterly disclaim, and
leave both to romanists, to whom, however, in their turn, we are
perfectly wilfing and ready to look for any patterns of exceflence,
whether more or less complete, which they may have to pro
duce. This is OUR catholicity, and this is our reverence for venerable
antiquity ! We venerate antiquity, and we are curious to penetrate
its secrets, because we firmly befieve that in every age God has

271 FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE
had his people. We venerate antiquity, just as we venerate any,
even the mostdespised community of modern christians, who appear
in any degree to enjoy the presence and influence of the Holy
Spirit ; and who, as it may seem, along with many and perhaps
deplorable errors, yet 'love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity.'
We, too, heartily make profession of our belief in the ' Holy
Catholic Church ;' and after having made this profession, and
after having attached an intelligible and most comfortable meaning
to the words— venerable words as they are, we should shudder as
much at the cold impiety of excluding from its pale the deluded
genuine christians of the nicene, or romish churches, as the
deluded (if they be deluded) genuine christians of some avoided
and abhorred sect of our own times. This is our catholicity ; and
it fills our hearts with comfort, and our mouths with praise : it
brightens the sadness, and composes the distractions of earth ;
and it brings into our bosoms something of the genial emotions
which, we believe, will make up the felicity of the ' communion of
saints' in heaven.
Whether we shall find in heaven ' all the saints' of the calendar,
we do not well know ; but we do know that we shall meet there
' a great multitude,' of those whom the intolerant have wished
in perdition, or have sent into the skies through flames, and from
racks and gibbets ; and we would almost as soon lend a hand in
this work to a Bonner, as admit to our creed or bosom any no
tion or feeling, the effect of which would be to alienate us, even
in thought, from any whom there we shall meet.
This is our catholicity ; nor does it take up a grain of that mingled
indifference and infidelity which is called latitudinarianism. This
word, as we understand it, means what is equivalent to pro
fessing, either that nineteen and twenty are absolutely equal ;
or that the difference between the two sums is not worth regarding.
But such a profession, when it attaches to matters of religion,
is not a mere absurdity, but an impiety also ; and it is a certain
indication of such a coldness of heart as would lead a man to
throw up his interest in the nineteen parts of his faith, as easily
as in the one. Now, far from sharing in either the absurdity or
the impiety of a latitudinarian temper, we give a proof how
justly we estimate the value ofthe nineteen elements, or points of

QUALITY OF THE NICENE THEOLOGY. 275
religion, by recognizing their aggregate worth, even when the one
may be wanting.
But now we find fault with the catholicity that attends ' church
principles,' on this very account, that it drives men into at once
the absurdity, and the impiety, of making as much ado about the
one, as about the nineteen parts of their Christianity ; or even to
attach more practical importance to the one, than they do to the
nineteen. While the latitudinarian slights the circumstantials of
religion, because he inwardly cares little or nothing about its sub
stance, the zealot of ' church principles,' by magnifying enor
mously the importance of its circumstantials, puts a real contempt
upon the substance ; and he does so, probably, under the influence
of the very sarae feeling of secret disaffection to that substance.
On the contrary, the catholicity which we profess, gives the
most convincing proof possible of its remoteness from latitudinarian
indifference, or chilliness of heart, by opening its arms to all who
can furnish any credible evidence of their possessing that substance.
Who is it then that steers the farthest from infidelity — he who will
never acknowledge Christianity at all, except when it meets him
trimly attired in the court livery he is fond of? or he who
heartily welcomes it, even when he may much dislike the garb
which in any instance it happens to wear ?

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND NUMBER.

STATEMENT OF THE ARGUMENT.
The ancient celibacy a principal element of ancient Christianity . . 133
CONNEXION op THE ANCIENT CELIBATE WITH THE NOTIONS ENTER
TAINED OF THE DIVINE NATURE.
The celibate the product of gnostic feeling. The principles of the
oriental theosophy, earlier and later : opposition of the churcli to the
gnostic heresies, while it imbibed the sentiment of ihem. The ab
stractive doctrine, and the penitential, both admitted by the ancient
church. Indications of the gnostic theosophy in Athanasius, Gregory
Nyssen, Gregory Nazianzen, Basil, and Synesius  14'5
CONNEXION OF THE CELIBATE WITH THE NOTIONS ENTERTAINED OF
THE SCHEME OF SALVATION.
Combination of the Buddhist, or abstractive, and the Brahminical, or
penitential principles in Popery— and in the ascetic institute of the
nicene church. The consequent exclusion of evangelical doctrines
and feelings. Citations from Chrysostom, Boethius, Vincentius,
Origen. Panegyric memoirs and epitaphic orations. Isidore ; Life of
St. Anthony by Athanasius, and eulogy of Athanasius by Nazianzen:
eulogium of Cyprian by the same. Life of Cyprian by his deacon Pon
tius. Ambrose and his funeral oration on the death of his brother
Satyrus. Ephrem's story of the monk Abraham and Mary. Chry
sostom on the parable of the ten virgins, compared with Macarius. . 176
FURTHER MEANS OF ESTIMATING THE aUALITY OF THE NICENE
THEOLOGy.
The choice of texts. The epistolary style of the nicene writers. The
mythic exposition of scripture, and Origen's reason for resorting to it.
Chrysostom's expositions. True and false perspective in religion, and
the admissions ofthe Oxford Tract writers concerning the slender evi
dence of church principles. Analysis of Chrysostom's nine homilies
on repentance  227

No. 3.] IPrice 2s. 6d.

ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY,
&c. &c.

THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY, AS LAID DOWN
IN THE NEW TESTAMENT.
No difficulty attaches to the subject of religious celibacy if we
confine ourselves to what is said concerning it by our Lord and
the Apostles ; nor can even the most fervent-minded christians be
in danger of running into extravagance on this ground, so long
as the great principles of the Gospel are understood, and their
genuine influence is admitted. But the moment when these
principles are compromised, and when the happy path of faith
and true holiness is abandoned, and a factitious pietism is courted,
then fervour becomes enthusiasm, and every folly and enormity
of the ascetic life takes its turn.
Thus it was with the ancient asceticisra ; nor with this error
alone ; and it is a singular circumstance that so close an analogy
subsists between the two subjects of celibacy and martyrdom, as
well in regard to the rule laid down for each by our Lord and the
Apostles, as to the fatal misunderstanding of that rule by the
ancient clftirch, that, if any ambiguity might be thought to
embarrass the one of these subjects, it may readily be cleared up
by a direct analogical argument derived from the other. The
fact is curious as well as important, that, from the moment when
the Church was left to its own discretion, it went astray, or, as
we might say, ran wild, on both these parallel lines ; so that if
we were balancing in regard to the one, and doubting whether,
after all, the practice of antiquity was not substantially apostolic,
we no sooner turn to the other, than we perceive indications not
u

278

THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,

to be misunderstood, of sheer enthusiasm, and of an almost total
want of sound evangelic feeling.
If at any time one were yielding oneself to the natural and
agreeable illusion of supposing that the eariy church enjoyed a
continuity of that miraculous infiuence which preserved the
inspired men from follies and errors incident to humanity, and
which are so abundantly generated by religious excitements — if
one were thinking this to have been the fact, the dream is
instantly dispelled by merely looking into the ancient martyr-
ologies. Affecting and admirable as are many of these memorials
of christian fortitude, we cannot but feel that, when compared
with the temper, principles, and style of the inspired persons, a
something essential is wanting, and that a something fatal has
come in its place : we are breathing another atmosphere, and
another colour is spread over all objects. These good men, the
early martyrs, spoke and suffered nobly ; and we love and admire
them ; and we also find it easy to follow, in their case, those
workings of human nature which, under trials so severe and
unusual, hurried them far beyond the modest line of evangelical
simplicity. We are not now intending to deal rigorously with
these worthies ; but are simply noticing the fact that they did so
act as men are likely to do, who are not benefited, more than we
ourselves may be, by supernatural aids.
This is not the place for entering into argument with any
(a hopeless task in truth) who might profess to think the early
martyrologies, and the florid repetitions of them by the nicene
orators, to be altogether in the style and temper of the New
Testament. I assume, on the contrary, that the marked difference
would be admitted by all candid persons. But then, if there be
such a difference, it involves the fact that the ancient church had
lost its hold of evangelic simplicity in regard to the rule and
motives of martyrdom ; and then there can be no ground on
which to resist the evidence which attests it having also, and as
early, faflen into an error in relation to celibacy, which error was
only another consequence of the same departure from apostofic
doctrine. The rule of martyrdom may be stated to this effect. — The Lord
demands of every one who would not be denied by him at the last.

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 279
that he shall be willing to suffer the loss of all things, and of life
itself, rather than deny him before men. This first stipulation of
our christian profession, is absolute, and of permanent obligation ;
and if any cases arise in which it may be doubtful what ' denying
Christ' means, as when christians have been required, by a
usurping church, to violate their consciences in relation to points
not of supreme importance, then the ambiguous case falls under
a broader rule, namely, that of suffering any extremity sooner
than defile the lips by an insincere profession, especially if that
profession have a bearing upon religion ; for a prevarication of
this sort, whatever may happen to be the immediate subject of it,
is a ' lying unto Ood,' and carries a peculiar turpitude.
But then, while this serious duty is peremptory, and of univer
sal application, not less so is the precept that the christian is, in
all cases, to withdraw himself from so terrible an alternative, if
he may do it either by flight, or by availing himself of any civil
privilege, or forensic plea, which, if equitably interpreted, would
screen him from the rage of his persecutors. The Apostles in
their own conduct exemplified both parts of this injunction. Peter
indeed once forgot the first : Paul, again and again, acted upon
the second.
But then a passage or two occurs in which something beyond
this strict rule is held before those who should actually be called,
in compUance with it, to suffer loss, and to bleed for the sake of
Christ. — There is, as it appears, a gracious reward, and an
eminence of happiness, to be conferred by sovereign goodness
upon sufferers for truth. By these promises sufferers for Christ's
sake have in every age been wont to sustain their fortitude ; and
just so long as the evangelic principle of piety is adhered to, and
its humbling influence is felt, all is safe : the due counterpoise of
motives is preserved, and while the cheering hope of ' a better
resurrection' is admitted, enthusiasm, self- righteousness and
presumption are avoided. It is thus, in fact, that we find the
martyrs of the reformation, generally, to have suffered and died.
The GOSPEL, which had then just been recovered, and which was
entertained in its energy and beauty, carried these worthies
unhurt, not merely through the ordeal of torture and a fiery
death, but safe through the far more difficult trial of high religious
V 2

280 THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,
excitement. In thousands of instances the victims of papal
ferocity have died, not only joyfully and resolutely ; but what is
more— meekly and humbly.
Why did not the age of protestant suffering (rare and discou
raged instances excepted) why did it not produce its hands of
insolent confessors, its knights spiritual, stalking in and out of
the church, as a privfleged class, rich in supererogatory merit, and
as such entitled to the honour of violating church order ? Why
have not our protestant preachers been used to spend their
choicest rhetoric upon the commemorations of the martyrs of
protestantism ? Why is it that a very little of this sort of decla
mation has been felt to be more than enough ? Why have we
seen no pilgrimages to the spots where our English worthies
suffered ? Why have we not been used to entreat, for ourselves
and the Church, the all-prevailing advocacy (patrocinium) of
Latimer, and Ridley, and Hooper, in the heavens ? Why have
no miracles been wrought by their rescued finger-bones or teeth ?
Why do not our churches boast of bottles of the blood, and locks
of the hair of our martyrs ?* No such things have been done, or
tolerated, in the protestant church, simply because the protestant
church has understood something of the first principles of Chris
tianity, and has, in the main, been not merely orthodox, but
evangelic ; and has therefore abhorred the practices, and scorned
the sentiments, which were in universal esteem in the nicene
church. It cannot be necessary in this place to describe what has so
often found a place in modern church histories, namely — first the
enthusiasm, then the fanaticism, and then the unbounded super
stitions which were connected with, and which utterly spofled the
otherwise noble constancy of the ancient church. To say all in
a word, the sufferings of the second and third centuries, became
the curse and ruin of the fourth and fifth ; and so it was that the
Enemy, who had altogether been foiled in his rage, triumphed in
his craft.
But what is to be especially observed is this, that all the
* The fresh blood of the martyrs used to be exhibited at Milan in the
time of Ambrose, as his notary and biographer affirms. Vita S. Arab, a
Paulino, c. 32.

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 281
enthusiasm, and all the fanaticism of the early martyrdoms, and
much of the superstition which thence took its occasion, sprung,
not very remotely, from certain abused passages of Scripture, and
sustained itself by quoting text upon text; nevertheless not until
after the genuine principles of Christianity had been compromised.
Now this is precisely the case with the paraflel enthusiasm,
fanaticism, and superstition, of the ancient celibacy — all was
justified by Scripture — the Gospel having first been discharged
from its place in the minds of the people, and their teachers.
It is even now asked by some, did not the ascetic system sup
port itself by an appeal to Scripture ? — Yes, and so has every
superstition of the papacy, and so did the enormities of the
donatists, and so the atrocities of the fanatics of Munster ; so the
lawless bloodshed and cruelty ofthe crusades,* so the horrors of
the inquisition, and so (to return to our point) the enthusiasm of
martyrdom. But in all such cases, how specious soever may have
been the plea of the deluded party, a simple course, clearing every
difficulty, is open to us — Let but the great principles of the Gospel
be restored to their place in the heads and hearts of christians,
and then the practical misinterpretation of single texts is at once
obviated ; for not merely are such misinterpretations then seen to
be opposed to the spirit and tendency of the New Testament ;
but, as they severally spring from modes of feeling which will not
consist with evangelic feeling, they in fact find no place, where
better motives are in vigour. A man whose mind is fraught with
apostolic sentiments, will neither dote over a relic, nor worship
the image of a saint, nor pray to the Virgin, nor burn a heretic,
nor offer himself to be burned, nor drive spikes into his sides,
nor, if he be unmarried, will he cafl himself, or allow himself to
be called, a terrestrial seraph. All these follies and enormities,
whether sustained by many texts, or by few, belong to darkened
souls, and to a dark age.
The rule of religious celibacy, as found in the New Testament,
is in fact much more clearly defined than are some other things
which have become the occasion of serious errors. Three or four
passages comprise all that is said on the subject by our Lord, or
" St. Bernard, de laude novae raiUtiae, ad milites Templi

^^^ THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,
the Apostles ; and happily, if any ambiguity might seem to attach
to the letter of the rule, we may derive from our Lord's per-
sonal behaviour, and from the practice of the Apostles, such a
comment upon it as must be amply suflScient for removing every
doubt ; at least, if our own minds be free from factitious excite
ments. It is a remarkable circumstance that, of the four principal pas
sages,* relating to celibacy, in the New Testament, namely.
Matt. xix. 12, Luke xx. 35, 1 Cor. vii. and Rev. xiv. 4, that
one is the most frequently referred to by the ascetic writers, and
is made to bear the greatest stress, which in fact is whofly irrele
vant to the subject— I mean oar Lord's assertion concerning the
angels, as reported by Luke. But it is not diflicult to divine the
motive of this absurd preference. Our Lord's doctrine of cefibacy,
as given by Matthew, carries with it a definite restriction, which
pointedly condemned the general practice of the Church, and
especially its cruel usage of inciting children to devote themselves
to a single life. Then again, Paul's lengthened disquisition on
the subject involves so many principles of practical wisdom, and
so much cool good sense, as made it dangerous to insist very long,
or minutely, upon the passage ; and then, as to the phrase occur
ring in the Apocalypse, besides that the book was not universally
admitted as canonical by the early church, and is much less
quoted by the ancient writers than other parts of the canon, the
figurative, and as it seems, the true interpretation of the passage,
as intending the faithful worshippers of God, uncontaminated by
idolatry, was not unknown to the early expositors, f
But if only the absurdity involved in any such application of
our Lord's language — Luke xx. 35, could be got over, then it
afforded precisely the kind of support that was wanted in favour
of the notion of a spiritual aristocracy, or class, answering to the
gnostic TryevfiaTtKol, and to whom the epithet ' terrestrial angels'
might be applied. To obtain the aid of this passage, reasoning
such as this was to he resorted to — The ' marrying, and the
being given in marriage,' is the condition of our present mode of
• To these texts Cyprian, who musters forces on this point, adds. Gen.
iii. 16, Exod. xix. 15, and 1 Sam. xxi. 4. (Testim. in', lib. 32.)
t See Origen, tom. iv. p. 3.— Benedictine. 1733.

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 283
existence ; but it is not to be the condition of the future life ;
therefore — how sound the inference ! those who, although actually
belonging to this world, and not to the next, choose to renounce
marriage, become, in doing so, angels, and are at once 'children
of the resurrection.' As if we were to say — animal life is sus
tained by aliment ; not so the angelic life ; therefore to abstain
from food, so far as possible, is, in the same degree, to make
oneself an angel ! Illusions so gross as these could never have
overcome the good sense of the early church, if the broad road of
absurdity had not first been opened before it by the gnostic
heresies, Our Lord's intention in this instance can hardly be misunder
stood ; for while his main purpose was to refute the sadducee,
whose doctrine strikes at the very root of religion, he took the
occasion also to reprobate those gross conceptions of the future
life, then current among the Jewish people, whence alone the
hypothetical objection propounded to him could draw any force.
' Your dilemma supposes that there will be marrying and giving
in marriage, in heaven : absurd and grovelling thought! — know
that the heavenly society is to be permanent, and therefore con
stituted on another principle : what becomes then of your assumed
ditficulty ? The children of the resurrection shall be as the angels.'
So much for a passage of which more use was made than of
any other, in recommending the practice of religious celibacy !
Precisely in the same style of unscrupulous logic were the san
guinary measures of the papacy excused and recommended —
' Compel them to come in' — ' I am not come to send peace on
the earth, but a sword ' — ' it is better that one member perish'
(that one heretic, or a thousand be burned) ' than that the whole
body (the Church) be lost,' or damaged. Perhaps the surest
indication, in the case either of an individual or a community, of
abandonment to delusion, is the habit of perversely interpreting
single phrases, or insulated passages of Scripture, in open contempt
of its spirit and tendency. This practice, of which the pattern
was set by Satan himself, has been the constant characteristic of
those who have appeared to be ' led captive hy him at his wfll.'
In its entire ascetic doctrine, as well as in many other important
points, one can hardly think any thing else than that the nicene

9Q4. THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,
church, yielding itself to a strong delusion, was ' given over to
helieve a lie.' «¦
Our Lord's direct affirmation, and his implied doctrine, as stated
Matt. xix. 12, does really bear upon the question of religious
celibacy, and demands therefore to he seriously considered. Tlie
Jewish national feefing on the subject of marriage, which that people
considered as a positive and universal duty, required, fike other
national prejudices, to be loosened and corrected, in order to
make room for a higher and a more comprehensive religious
system. Our Lord surely did not intend to condemn or disparage
personal cleanliness when he affirmed that ¦ to eat with unwashen
hands defileth not a man.' What he meant was to bring in a
spiritual and genuine notion of purity, in the place ofthe national
and rabbinical superstition of the Jews. He did not mean either
to condemn, or to abrogate the worship of God in the Jewish
temple, when he affirmed that the rime was come for establishing
the worship of God on a broader and more spiritual basis than
that of the Mosaic institute. Nor does he, as we may confidently
assume, in the present instance, intend, either to throw discredit
upon matrimony (which, here and elsewhere, he honours by a
solemn sanction) or to speak of celibacy as if it were a holier
and loftier condition ; for to do this would have been to recog
nise that very principle of exterior and ceremonial purity against
which he so strenuously, we might say vehemently, inveighed
on various occasions. Although, in this particular point, the
national prejudice of the Jews stood opposed to the ascetic
doctrine, yet the general principle of sanctity, as attaching to
visible observances, and of a merit, as belonging to classes of
men, on the ground of peculiar abstinences, was altogether agree
able to the natural mind, and would have been readfly listened to
by the pharisees.
Our. Lord seems to have intended, after condemning the
flagitious practice of divorce as then prevalent among the Jews,
and after giving the most emphatic sanction to the institution of
marriage, to take the occasion, suggested by the query of the
disciples — ' At that rate is it good to marry?' for introducing
a higher motive of conduct, belonging to the ' kingdom of heaven,'
and which, in opposition to the Jewish opinion and custom, might

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 285
lead certain individuals (who are so described as to preclude a
fanatical misinterpretation of the rule) to separate themselves even
from the lawful engagements of ordinary life, and so the better
promote this kingdom in an evil world, unencumbered by any
earthly ties. The sovereign motives of the new dispensation
were of such force that they might lead a man even to lay
down life itself for Christ, or to surrender property and every
social endearment ; and, as a circumstance attending this sort of
unsparing devotedness, an abstinence from marriage might be not
only a lawful, but an acceptable sacrifice. ' Ye are not your own,
but are bought with a price; — glorify God therefore with your
body ;' — ' Present your bodies a living sacrifice unto God,' &c.
These several injunctions, being only various consequences, all
flowing from the one supreme reason and motive which the
Gospel introduces, practically amount to this — ^be ready to die,
be ready to suffer, be ready to labour, be content, whether full or
empty, as to earthly enjoyments ; and, in a word, hold every thing
in subordination to the one principle of christian conduct ; or, to
say all at once — ' let the same mind be in you which was in Christ
Jesus, who pleased not himself.' This sovereign rule of behaviour
may either make a man a martyr, or it may induce him to lead a
single life ; or it may impel him to traverse the globe, having no
certain dwelling-place— when the doing so shall clearly, and in the
judgment of good sense, tend to promote truth in the world. But
on the contrary, the enthusiast or the fanatic who, for the mere
purpose — a selfish purpose, of snatching the martyr's crown,
insults a persecuting power ; or the ascetic, who, to no imaginable
good purpose, inflicts torture upon himself, or passes his years,
like a wild beast, in a cavern, or who adheres to celibacy as if it
were an angelic excellence, and in doing so puts contempt upon
the divine appointment — all such persons, puffed up by the self-
idolizing conceits of an inflamed imagination, wholly misunder
stood the rule (as they are plainly destitute of the principle) of
christian self-denial. The course pursued under any such false
impulses has in fact always diverged so widely from the line of
christian simplicity, humility, and benevolence, as to make evident
enough the originating error whence it resulted.
In our Lord's rule above referred to, there are very distinctly

28(3 THE RULE 0? RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,
to be observed, first, the wefl-defined and seriously propounded
restriction — ' Afl are not able to receive this word — if any man
is able to receive it — if to any this ability has been given, let
.such receive it ;' plainly pointing to a peculiarity of original tem
perament, such as that, having been wefl ascertained by the
individual, he might act upon it without presumption. How
frightfully and cruelly was this restriction contemned by those
nicene writers and preachers, who not only so lauded the merits
and honours of virginity as in fact to seduce tens of thousands
into a snare fatal to their present happiness and to their souls ;
but moreover laboured with the utmost intensity to promote the
flagitious practice of dedication to Christ (miserable misnomer)
before the age of puberty, nay, from infancy ! This practice was
the foul stain of the nicene church. Even with our Lord's signi
ficant caution on their lips, we find the great writers of that in
fatuated age provoking the fanaticism of parents, and aiding to
drive troops of helpless children and youths onward toward the
precipice, and into that fiery abyss, the horrors of which them
selves have described !*
But, in the second place, our Lord's rule points distinctly to a
motive, which, after the restriction had been duly regarded, might
jusrify this unusual course of life : — it was for the sake ' of the
kingdom of heaven,' a phrase the meaning of which is put beyond
doubt by a comparison of the places where it occurs, and by a
consideration of the actual instances wherein its meaning was
confessedly carried out into practice. Now if we compare this
condition of the rule of celibacy with the ascetic institute, how
was it set at nought ! Let us admit the most favourable suppo
sition possible, namely, that the ascetics were, in the large
majority of instances, the most devoted and spiritually minded
* I have already, p. 164, referred to Gregory Nyssen and Augustine on
this point J and of the style in which this practice was urged, a favourable spe
cimen may be found in Chrysostom's third book, addressed to the opponents
of the monastic life, tom. i. p. 92, et seq. It appears, both from Chrysostom
and Basil, that children were received into the religious houses, and there
trained in the ascetic discipline until their deliberate choice could be ascer
tained. Basil, Reg. Fusios. Inter, xv. But this education, if it disgusted
many, must have availed with too many in inducing them rashly to profess,
long before they could know what they were doing.

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 287
members of the christian commonwealth ; then, instead of seeking
to promote ' the kingdom of heaven,' by remaining in the midst
of the mass, as a conservative element, and instead of endeavour
ing to shed a holy influence upon the dark world around them,
they either shut themselves up in religious houses, located, most
often, in the wilderness, or they absolutely secluded themselves
from all human society, passing long years in sepulchres or in
crevices of the mountains. That is to say, they acted upon a
principle of unmixed and avowed selfishness, and in direct contra
riety to the spirit and precepts of the Gospel ; and whereas Christ
had set an example to his followers, in not pleasing himself, and
in ' going about doing good,' and in ' consorting with publicans
and sinners,' for their good — ' for the kingdom of heaven's sake,'
these ascetics, minding only ' their own things,' left the Church
and the world to take their course. And all this flagrant con
tradiction of the spirit and letter of Christianity received the ad
miring approval of every one of the great nicene writers !
In the third place, a material circumstance in this instance, is
the absolute want, in our Lord's language, of any implication,
ever so remote, of the great ascetic doctrine — the spirit of the
whole system, namely, that of the intrinsic holiness and angelic
merit of virginity. No alliance whatever has our Lord's practical
recommendation with the gnostic-nicene principle, that marriage
is a poflution, and celibacy a ' holy state,' and a condition of
proximity to God. If any such notion had been in our Lord's
view, was not this the place to have let it appear ? With the
ascetics, if indeed any regard was had to the possible utility of
a single life, that is to say, its public utility, yet the all in all in
their view was — the sanctity of the state, and its spiritual, or
rather celestial eminence.
In each of these respects then, the nicene ascetic institute was
a flagrant contempt of our Lord's rule of christian cefibacy : that
is to say, first, as it whofly overlooked the restriction with
which he had guarded it ; secondly, as putting contempt upon the
motives which might justify the celibacy of the few to whom it
would be proper ; and thirdly, as bringing in, and putting fore
most, a motive or doctrine not merely foreign to Christianity, but
subversive of its very purport.

288

THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,

The interpretation we should give of our Lord's rule, may how
ever be brought to a most satisfactory test ; that, I mean, of his own
personal and immaculate behaviour, as wefl as the conduct ofthe
Apostles ; and this behaviour contrasted with the usages of the
ascetic life, looked at in parallel circumstances. Be it remembered
then that, whereas among the Jews the moral dignity of woman,
and the religious equality of the sexes, had been far better under
stood than among any other people of antiquity, even the most
refined, and whereas rational and purifying domestic habits,
aflowing to woman her due place in society, were stifl in exist
ence in Palestine, our Lord, in his personal behaviour, and in a
most remarkable manner, recognised this national feeling, and
allowed himself to be attended and 'ministered to,' by women,*
and thus practically authorized as good and safe, that intercourse
of the sexes in domestic and common life, which then prevailed.
The first disciples, and the Apostles, instead of drawing back from
this wonted fiberty, held to, and sanctioned it ;j- and in fact
it is the glory of Christianity, wherever it has not been over
powered by the gnostic poison, to have wrought the regeneration
of the social economy, precisely in this way ; that is to say, by
raising woman to her moral level, and by refining and sanctioning
the home intercourse of the sexes. How deep and fatal was the
injury in this particular done to the world by the ancient asceti
cism, and to what extent it operated to debauch the social system,
we shall have to state by and by. At present let us contemplate
the edifying contrast of our blessed Lord's behaviour, as com
pared with that of the heroes of gnostic sanctity — the nicene
saints. Our Lord was in some instances attended in his journeys by
women, his wants being provided for by their generous attach
ment, and his personal comfort secured by their assiduous affec
tion. But now no injunctions of the ascetic institute are more
frequent or serious than those which interdict afl intercourse be
tween the sexes. To frequent the society of women, to converse
with them, to lift the eye from the earth where they were present.

* Luke viii. 1 — 3, and Matt, xxvii. 55.
t Acts i. 14. Phil. iv. 3.

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 289
was, if not an offence, an extreme imprudence. The places are
innumerable in which cautions of this sort occur : — the touch of
a female hand, what contamination did it not convey ! * It may
he well, while our blessed Lord's conduct is vividly recollected,
to take a single instance of a mode of behaviour, in one of the
most prominent personages of the nicene age, which embodies
the admitted principles of nicene feeling and morality, both as to
clerical pretensions, and ascetic purity. When we see a 'suc
cessor of the Apostles,' in the fourth century, admitting an adu
lation and a personal worship which the Apostles themselves would
not have allowed — and at the same time pretending to a sanctity
which the Son of God knew nothing of, we must either grant, what
is now affirmed by some, that the Christianity of the nicene age
was indeed a purer and a more finished form of our religion than
that which Christ and the Apostles were acquainted with : or else
allow that the striking contrariety which distinguishes the two
schemes of piety and manners, is that which properly charac
terizes, on the one side, true holiness, simplicity and truth ; and
on the other, factitious sanctimoniousness, unbounded spiritual
arrogance, and a falseness, which was the product either of delu
sion, or of knavery, or of both. Let the reader bear in mind
those various incidents of the gospel narrative which exhibit our
Lord's behaviour toward his female followers; and then turn to
the life oi Saint Martin of Tours, as reported by his admirer and
disciple, Sulpitius Severus.-f'
This famous St. Martin, ' justly compared with the Apostles and
Prophets, whom in all things he resembled, in faith, virtue, and
* If the extravagances of inferior writers were here cited, an objection
would be raised, as if an unfair advantage were taken of the folly of indivi
duals. I will refer therefore to none but the highest authorities. Among
these none is of higher reputation than Basil, and the reader may, at the
cost of an hour's reading, form his own opinion of the nicene monkery as
to its principles and rules, in examining the ascetic tracts of this father ; I
mean especially his replies lo the queries of the monks, and his Monastic
Constitutions, to which I shall make some particular references in the fol
lowing sections. Ephrem also, and Cassian, must be cited in proof of what
is here only incidentally affirmed, namely, that the ascetic sanctity demanded
restrictions in personal behaviour, which had never been thought of by the
Apostles, whom we must believe to have been not less holy than these monks.
t Sulpit. Sev. Dial. IL u. 5, 6, 7.

290 THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,
miraculous power,' had occasion, soon after his consecration, to
visit the imperial palace. Valentinian, knowing that he was come
to ask for that which he did not wish to grant, ordered him to be
driven from the gate — instigated to this irreverence by his wife.
The insulted bishop forthwith had recourse to the wonted aids of
fasting, sackcloth, ashes, and prayers ; and at the end of a week
an angel appeared to hira, commanding him to repeat his attempt
to see the emperor, and assuring him that every obstacle should
now give way before him. In fact neither doors nor guards ob
structed his approach to the royal apartments. The emperor,
however, enraged at his unbidden intrusion, does not deign to
rise at his entrance (a reverence due, it seems, by an emperor to a
b'ishop)-anti\ the throne itself had burst out in flames— ipsumque
regem ea parte corporis, qua sedebat, adflaret incendium ! The
haughty prince, thus unwillingly driven from his seat, rose to
St. Martin ; — who can doubt it ? and moreover, being convinced
and won by this same fervid logic, he granted all that was de
manded; and from that time loaded St. Martin with honours-
The mention of the palace leads the narrator to introduce another
incident, characteristic of his master's virtues and manners. The
wife of the emperor Maximus was accustomed to listen with the
utmost reverence to the conversation of the saint ; and, following
the evangelic example, she washed his feet with her tears, and
wiped them with her hair. Martin, whom never before a woman
had touched, knew not how to escape from the assiduous atten
tions, nay rather, the servile ofiices of the empress, who, in com
parison with the honour of rendering such services to such a saint,
held in contempt all princely pomps, power, and wealth. In the
end she prepared his repast, waited upon him at table, and, gather
ing the crumbs, esteemed them as more deflcious than the dainties
of a royal banquet.
The narrator is however here stopped by his friend, with the
startling inquiry, How it could be, that so eminent a saint, whose
sacred person a female hand had never before contaminated, could
admit so great a freedom on the part of the empress ? and he fears
what may be the consequence, upon some minds, of such an in
stance of condescension. To this it is replied that the singularity
of the occasion, and the saint's benevolent errand at that time,

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 291
seemed sufiiciently to justify his relaxing a fittle the severity of
his rule ; and well were it for those who might be likely to
make an iraproper use of his example in this instance, if they
could so consider it as to be confirmed in their adherence to the
ascetic discipline ! Let such consider the case — once in his life
only, and he already in his seventieth year, had any such thing
happened I — Consider too, it was no widow to whom he granted
this indulgence, nor virgo lascivjens ; but a wife, in the presence
of her husband, and at his request; — an empress too, performing
these oflaces ; nor did even she dare to partake with him of his
repast ! Take then the instance as it is — such an occasion — such
a person, such a reverence, such a table — and in the whole course
of life — once only!'
Now what is all this but insufferable spiritual prudery — arro
gance, hypocrisy, or much worse ? Yet it is the characteristic style
ofthe nicene age. The writer, Sulpitius, more than once, impiously
sets his saint by the side of Christ, as if the two characters might
be compared'on some ground of analogy ; in fact they stand in
absolute contrast, and not to have seen and felt this contrariety,
was itself an effect of that universal delusion and thick darkness,
which had then surrounded the Church. This however is manifest
enough, that our Lord's rule of celibacy neither implied, nor
resulted from, any such notion of sanctity as that which constituted
the principle of the ascetic system.

Biblical exposition I do not profess ; nevertheless an historical
inquiry concerning a perverted use of Scripture, in any important
particular, almost unavoidably implies the making some reference
to the plain import of such passages. The seventh chapter of
Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians demands, in fact, some careful
criticism, as well historical as bibfical ; but I attempt, in this
place, only what seems indispensable in reference to my particular
argument. The essential difference between apostolic and nicene Chris
tianity presents itself very prominently in comparing the latter
verses of the sixth chapter, with the ascetic doctrine, bf which
some samples have already been produced. ' What, know ye
not,' asks the Apostle, ' that your body is the temple of the Holy

292 THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY, *
Ghost?' or, as in the third chapter, ' Know ye not that ye are the
temple of God? . . . if any man defile the temple of God' ... .
This serious truth he employs in no other manner than as the most
powerful dissuasive from sinful indulgences, such as those speci
fied in the context ; and it is clear that, in his view, christians
living unblamably under the conjugal relationship fulfilled the
intention of his injuncrions : in abstaining from the works of the
flesh, as enumerated Gal. v. 19, and in cherishing the fruits of
the Spirit, the christian law was satisfied. But not so the ascetics
— I mean the train of writers, now extant, from Tertuflian to
St. Bernard. The body of a christian is the temple of the Holy
Ghost, say these divines, therefore — no part of it, not ordinarily
exposed, must ever he seen by another eye, and therefore none
but the simplest and purest substances, and those in the smallest
possible quantities, are to be admitted into the stomach, and
therefore the grossest of afl terrestrial contaminations, that ofthe
matrimonial connexion, is to be utterly avoided by whoever would
be holy indeed !
Here then we have before us, most distinctly expressed, two
doctrines of holiness, derived professedly from the same truth,
namely the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, but involving totally
different principles, and leading to different practices. Nor is the
mere difference all we have to notice ; for, as the ascetic doctrine
assumed to itself a higher credit than the apostolic, and was
spoken of as ' a more excellent way ;' or was, to use the phrase
current in the nicene age, ' a merit beyond law,' its effect was to
dislodge, or we should say to dethrone, the apostolic principle of
morals. ' The Apostle tefls you to be holy in abstaining from vice,
but WE speak to you of a loftier and a more genuine holiness ; —
and if ye aspire to perfection listen to us, not to him 1'
The commendation of virginity, re-echoed from afl sides within
the nicene church, that it was ' a merit beyond (the requirements
of) law,' is alone enough to exhibit the opposition between the two
systems. Neither in this passage of the epistle to the Corinthians,
nor any where else in the New Testament, is there to be discovered
the remotest trace of the doctrine that celibacy is ' a merit,' or that
it is ahoHer condition, or that matrimony is, in any sense whatever,
a spiritual degradation, or a poflution. This is the very point of

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT.

293

distinction hetween the poisonous fllusion of the ascetic system,
and the simple rule of religious celibacy, as found in Scripture.
Among those who devote themselves to the work of the Lord, and
especially to itinerant labours, or perilous missions to the heathen,
it is very plain that a man who has one chfld only, must feel
himself less obstructed in his course than one who has nine ;
and so he who, although married, has no children, may well
meet difficulties which the father even of two or three might
do better not to encounter. Clearly then the unmarried, sup
posing always that they have not misinterpreted their personal
calling, have an advantage, which, if wisely employed, may far
more than compensate to them what they have relinquished. All
this is intefligible enough ; and the reasons and motives which
such a doctrine involves are manifestly enhanced in those sea
sons of trial to the Church when severe privations are to be
submitted to by christians. It was, in our Lord's view, to be
esteemed a favour when the storm of public calamity fell upon a
community during the summer, rather than the winter, and, at
such a time, those were to be accounted comparatively happy
who were not ' with chfld,' or ' giving suck.' What can be more
simple ?
And now let reasonable men say whether such is not the
general purport of the seventh chapter of the Epistle before us ;
or, in other words, let it be asked whether this chapter teaches
the ascetic principle of the higher sanctity of virginity, as if it
were, in the Lord's sight, an excellence, placing those who adhere
to it on a level above that of the married, and so much the nearer
to the divine nature. The Apostle's disquisition on this subject
is long enough, and sufficiently precise, to have included the
statement of some such ])rinciple, if indeed he had held it : but
instead of advancing the ascetic doctrine, and at the very turn of
his argument, ver. 25, when he declares that the Lord had enjoined
nothing on the subject, and when it would have been so fit an
occasion for insinuating the ' higher philosophy,' he reverts to the
temporary and special reason which might recommend celibacy —
' I suppose that this is good for the present distress,' for a man,
if unmarried, ' not to seek a wife.'
If then we come to ask, at ver. 38, what is meant by ' doing
X

294 THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,
better,' we have only to look back to the reasons which the
Apostle had already advanced, and which involve nothing beyond
the practical advantages or immunities of a single life, in relation,
either to seasons of persecution, or to extraordinary labours of
evangelic zeal, or to any circumstances under which a christian
(personal temperament having been duly considered) might think
himself, or herself, free to use the privilege of ' waiting upon the
Lord without distraction.' ' I would that ye should be without
carefulness ' — exempt from distracting anxieties : this is the un
ambitious motto of the entire chapter ; and it is here highly
curious to observe that, while the ascetics of the nicene age sub
stituted, for so homely and reasonable a principle, the lofty doc
trine of seraphic virginity, they did, in their actual practice,
involve themselves in all the cares of married fife, and in much
worse. Let us look to Chrysostom's description of a ' holy
monk's ' manifold solicitudes. Paul, indeed, had said nothing
about a single man's being, on that account, as holy as Gabriel ;
but he does say, that those who would please the Lord might, in
certain cases, do well not to marry, in order that they might be
free to serve the Lord with less distraction.
The custom against which Cyprian, as we have seen, had
inveighed in the third century at Carthage, was no incidental or
local abuse ; for it had spread itself on all sides, and, in the time
with which we have now to do, it had become, notwithstanding
all remonstrances, a too frequent usage with the coenobite ascetics,
and even with some of the anchorets. Not only did the aged
monks avafl themselves of the offices, and enjoy the society of
young women in their cloisters, but young monks also did the
same, in defiance of the scandals that could not but arise from so
indiscreet a practice ;* whfle, on the other hand, young nuns en
tertained a cortege of 'phflosophio' paramours, under various
pretexts. ' What a sight is it,' says Chrysostom, ' to enter the
cell of a SOLITARY monk, and to see the apartment hung about
with female gear, shoes, girdles, reticules, caps, bonnets, spindles,
combs, and the like, too many to mention ; but what a jest is it
to visit the abode of a rich monk, and to look about you ; for you
find the solitary, fiovoe, surrounded with a bevy of lasses, one
* Chrysost. tom. i. pp.279, 310, 312, et seq.

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT.

295

might say, just fike the leader of a company of singing and
dancing giris ; what can be more disgraceful ! and in fact the
monk is all day long vexed and busied with petty affairs proper
to a woman .... not merely is he occupied with worldly matters,
contrary to the apostolic precept, but even with feminine cares ;'
and these ladies, being very luxurious in their habits, as well as
imperious in their tempers, the good man was liable to be sent
on fifty errands — ' to the sflversmith's, to inquire if my lady's
mirror was finished, if her vase was ready, if her scent-cruet had
been returned : and from the silversmith's to the perfumer's, and
thence to the linendraper's, and thence to the upholsterer's.
Then add to all these cares, the jarrings and scoldings that are
apt to resound in a house full of pampered women ! Paul says,
be ye not the servants of men ; shall we not then cease to be
the slaves of women, as it is common injury to all 1 Christ,
who would have us behave ourselves as his valiant soldiers,
assuredly has not for this purpose clad us in the spiritual armour,
that we should take upon ourselves the office of waiting, like
menials, upon worthless girls,* or that we should busy ourselves
with their spinnings and sewings, or spend the live-long day by
their side, while at work, imbuing our minds with effeminate
trifles!" So egregious and ridiculous are the inconsistencies into which
those are sure to fall, who, not content with religion and morality,
such as God has given them to us, must frame to themselves
something loftier. — What that loftier profession actually comes
to, we may learn (to go no further) from Chrysostom's two tracts,
above cited ; and let the reader who peruses them throughout
say, whether we do not deal leniently with the nicene asceticism
in speaking of it only as trivial and absurd. And after such a
perusal, and after turning to those many passages in the same
writer, in which the powers of language are taxed to make up
the encomium of celibacy, let him open again Paul's epistle to the
Corinthians, and ask whether an utter contrariety of feeling and
of principle does not distinguish the two writers. Let it be par
ticularly observed that the Apostle not only does not assume any
* Kopuv rpio^oXiiuum, threepenny wenches. (Abridged from pp. 295,
296, 297.) X 2

-93 THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY,
peculiar sanctity to attach to a single life, implying a correlative
pollution as belonging to the marriage state ; but he attributes
such an honour, or recommendation, to this state (whatever his
language may precisely mean) as that, even when impaired by
the heathenism of one of the parties, it stifl conferred an ecclesi
astical benefit upon the other, so as to secure church privfleges
for the offspring (ver. 14).

The expressions occurring in the fourteenth chapter of the
Revelations (ver. 4), although often alluded to by the ascetic
writers, were not, for the reasons that have been already men
tioned, so much insisted upon as might have been supposed; and
at present there are few, I befieve, who would admit that the
passage has any bearing whatever upon the subject of cefibacy.
The well understood and ancient import of the phrases in ques
tion, when employed prophetically and symbolically, as intending
purity of faith, opposed to idolatrous (adulterous) compliances
and corruptions, accords entirely with the obvious meaning of the
context. The subjugation of Christendom, generally, to an adul
terous, i.e. an idolatrous power arrogating to itself divine honours,
having been predicted, \he scene is suddenly brightened by the
vision of the Lamb, with his select company of the faithful, who,
through all vicissitudes of their earthly warfare and pilgrimage,
adhere to their holy profession, foflowing hira ' whithersoever
he goeth.' To this vision succeeds the fall and punishment
of the idolatrous adherents of the blasphemous and apostate
usurpation. True christians, without any regard to the unimportant circum
stance of their being single or married, are cafled, by the Apostle
James (i. 1 8) a ' first-fruit ' dirapxh unto God ; and in this place of
the Apocalypse, also, the faithful, as distinguished from the false—
those in whose mouth no lie {iptvhs, not UXog, is the reading) was
found, are called dirapxfl, ' a first-fruit ' unto God and the Lamb ;
and they are said to be (not a<j)dopoi, which was the ecclesiastical
term technically and ordinarily applied to the 7rap9£Vo(,but) apLpoi,
unblamable ; not absolutely so indeed ; but in respect of their
adherence to the true worship of God. Phrases, all of them turning

AS LAID DOWN IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. 297
upon the same symbolic metonymy, recur in every part of this
prophecy. Does any one imagine that the flagitious woman who
had debauched the earth with her fornications, and seduced kings,
means nothing more than a personification of licentiousness, in
the fiteral sense of the term ? No such interpretation has ever
been maintained by rational expositors : — the scarlet-clad woman,
shameless, cruel, and arrogant, and the inveterate enemy of the
saints, is an adulteress in the ecclesiastical and symbolic sense
of the word ; and whatever actual profligacy may always have
attended idolatrous superstitions, it is not the profligacy, but the
idolatry, that is mainly intended by the prophetic style. The
correlative, or antithetic import then of the phrases by which the
holy and antagonist company are designated — the ' true and
faithful,' the ' followers of the Lamb,' cannot be misunderstood.
These irapdiyoi, who are they, but those that have refused to
drink of the wine of her fornications, who had corrupted the
nations ? If these terms are to he understood in their literal
sense, so must other terms with which they are connected, and
then the endeavour to expound the book in any portion of it
must be hopeless.
But if there were room to entertain, for a moment, the suppo
sition of a literal meaning in this place, then one could not but
look to its bearing upon the general tenor of church history, or
the outline of facts connected with the extant records of ^e ascetic
institute. Let us then assume with St. Bernard,* that, by this
virgin corapany is actually meant ' the virgins of the Church,'
who are to enjoy an honour which is not to be shared by those,
however eminent — qui non sunt virgines, quamvis tamen sint
Christi. In the first place then, such an interpretation excludes
from the privileged quire several of the Apostles — probably all
but one or two of them, and with them, very many of the holiest
men and women of every age. As to the worthies of our own
times — the truly great and wise of the protestant churches, it is
but a few of them that would not be excluded by this interpre
tation. On the other hand, what has been the general moral
condition of those whom it must include ? Assuredly it is with
the broad characteristics of the communities or classes which it
* Vol. ii. p. 471.

^^° THE RULE OF RELIGIOUS CELIBACY.
designates, that prophecy has to do ; now a man must be resolute
indeed in his credulity who can actually look into the extant
evidence, and stfll persuade himself that genuine purity of mind
and manners, or that any eminent christian qualities have generally
belonged to the monastic orders. Take this evidence whence we
please, from Cyprian down to St. Bernard ; or look no further
than to the partial testimony, and the reluctant admissions of
Chrysostom,* and Jerome ; and it wfll be impossible to doubt
that, while a few were virtuous and sincere, and at the same time
fanatical and extravagant, there prevailed among the many the
worst kinds of immorality :— that is to say, either shameless
vices, or a pravity of the heart that was at once pitiable and
loathsome. And yet it is from the bosom of a community such
as this, that the Lord (if this interpretation is adopted) selects his
peculiar favourites ! and of these (ecclesiastical) virgins it is
declared that they were ' blameless,' and that nothing 'false' was
found in their mouth ! How miserably are any such designations
contradicted by the ordinary characteristics of the ascetic records !
Read the ' Lives of the Saints ' — read the Lausiac history, and
what presents itself on every page but the detafls of self-deception
and knavery ? What but a digested system of vain pretensions,
and profitable frauds ; or, in a word — Lies, either in the sense
of delusions, or in the sense of wilful falsifications ? Take the
very choicest specimens of nicene monkery (to some of which I
have already alluded) such for instance as the life of St. Antony,
or that of St. Hilarion, by Jerome, or that of St. Martin of Tours,
and then let any one who retains his hold of reason determine
whether these narratives are distinguished most by the spirit of

• ' Alas, my soul ! well may I so exclaim, and repeat the lamentable cry,
with the prophet, Alas, my soul ! Our virginity has fallen into contempt :—
the veil that parted it off from matrimony is rent by impudent hands: the
holy of holies is trodden under foot, and its grave and tremendous sanctities
have become profane, and thrown open to all ; and that which once was had
in reverence, as far more excellent than matrimony, is now sunk so low, as
that one should rather call the married blessed, than those wlio profess it . . .
Nor is it the enemy that has effected all this ; but the virgins themselves 1'—
Chrysostom, tom. i. p. 304. Such is the confession of the warmest admirer
of the ascetic life — and such, if we may trust him, had it become in his times.
Jerome's testimony to the same effect will be referred to hereafter.

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY. 299
holy simplicity, modesty, and Truth ; or of wonder-loving ex
travagance, delusion, and Lying? I ask for a conscientious
reply to this definite question. In taking instances such as
these, we give the ascetic system the greatest advantage possible ;
that is to say, we leave untouched the heap of abominations, and
we adduce the very brightest instances, from what is spoken of
as 'the golden age' ofthe monastic system. Few protestants,
surely, wfll he so courageous as first to adopt the literal inter
pretation of the passage in question, and then to appeal to church
history, and the monkish legends, in support of such an expo
sition ! The real meaning of the phrases, surrounded as they are
by symbolic language, drawn from the same analogy, and con
cerning which there can be no doubt, wifl not, I think, be ques
tioned by any but those who can spare nothing that may give
a seeming support to a groundless doctrine.

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.
There remains however a passage, and it is a signal one,
which demands to be adverted to in connexion with our present
subject : I mean Paul's prediction of the approaching apostasy.*
But here again we are met by that protestant habit of thinking,
which has, in so many instances, impelled the anxious opponents
of the papacy to attribute specifically to the romish church, what,
in truth, belongs to it only in common with the eastern, and with
the nicene church. Thus, for example, not a phrase occurs in
this most remarkable prediction — a prediction announced as
' explicit,' not symbolical, which can, with any propriety, be
applied to the papacy, as distinguished from the church catholic,
eastern and western, of the nicene age : each characteristic of the
' apostasy ' as here specified, must have been admitted to have
had its accomplishment in the ecclesiastical system of the fourth
century, even if no such despotism as that of Rome had after-
* 1 Tim. iv.

300 THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.
wards come into existence. It is otherwise with the mystic and
difficult prophecy recorded in the second epistle to the Thessalo-
nians ; this latter having a more determinate and hierarchical
import, while the one now in question has a wider meaning, and
has respect more to the moral characteristics of the predicted
defection. Let us only imagine that the church universal had been brought
back to apostolic purity in the sixth, or the seventh century, and
that thenceforward, and to the present time, it had retained its
integrity ; how should we, in that case, have applied this pre
diction ? Without a doubt, to the ascetic doctrine, and to the
monastic institute of the preceding four centuries. Each prophetic
mark is actually found upon that systera ; nor is there any other
christian system, or sect, or institute, in any age or country, that
has borne them. The prophecy having been issued under this
very condition of its being a literal description, we find it to have
been literally realized within the Church, and to have presented
itself, with singular uniformity as to its characteristics, in every
section of the church : and this well-defined error is termed an
Apostasy, involving the church which harboured, sanctioned, and
idofized it, in the most serious reprobation.
Those who choose to do so, may amuse their leisure with
ingenious methods for evading the application of this remarkable
prophecy ; but no such subterfuges wifl satisfy unsophisticated
minds, and it is to such that the prediction is immediately
addressed. It is not a Daniel that is appealed to on this
occasion ; for there are no dark symbols to be interpreted, there
is no mythos to be unfolded. The Spirit speaketh ^jjrwc, as the
Lord himself had done when he foretold the manner of his own
death, and the time of his resurrection. Prophecy, when delivered
in this style differs from history, only in the brevity of its
descriptions, and in the mere circumstance of its having preceded
the event. And if in such an instance a real ambiguity is found
to attend the application of the prediction, our alternative must
be either the conclusion in which infidelity would triumph, or the
strancre supposition that the Church was thus explicitiy forewarned
of a danger which it was not to encounter untfl the remotest
period of its history.

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY. 301
' But how stands the prediction when it comes to be placed by
the side of the church history of the first five centuries ?
The Spirit explicitiy declares that, in the after seasons, i. e. in
the times succeeding the era of the apostolical personal ministry,
some, Ttyes, shall apostatize from the faith — from the principles
of Christianity. Some — as if it were a portion of the Church, or
certain churches, or certain individuals, and not the whole body.
Now, although the entire Church, and especially as represented by
its chiefs, did in fact share in the ascetic apostasy by approving
it, it was specifically the error of a class, or brotherhood, every
where existing indeed, yet no where embracing the community.
It was otherwise in relation to the worshipping of images, and the
praying to the saints, which were the errors of the Church at large ;
while the ascetic practice was the error of some, and the marks of
apostasy here mentioned are peculiarly the characteristics of the
anchorets and coenobites, or the ascetics of the two classes, the
solitary and the conventual.
The ellipsis of the third verse being supplied, as it must, by
the word KeXevovrtoy, or one of similar import, then the meaning
will be that the body, or community, or sect, to which the pre
diction relates, will be distinguished by its insisting, in an abso
lute and invariable manner, and in relation to all who came within
the circle of its authority, upon abstinence from matrimony, and
from the ordinary indulgences of the appetite. Whatever diver
sities might be admitted in relation to other points of discipline
within this apostate community, no exceptions could he allowed
in regard to these two. The first law — and an iron law, of this
predicted body should be the preservation of virginity ; and its
second law, equally binding upon all, although susceptible of
diversities in the interpretation, was — a general and severe abste
miousness as to diet, and the most rigorous occasional fastings.
So it should be that, after setting off every variable or incidental
pecufiarity attaching to this apostasy, in different times and com
munities, these two marks should always belong to it, namely, the
enforcement, or the ^reiem^erf enforcement (for hypocrisy was also
to be a characteristic of the system) of celibacy, and of fasting.
And we are directed to look, not around the Church, but within
its pale, for the defection thus described.

302 THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.
Whatever force we may attach to the words—' Forbid,'* and
' Command,' they can mean no more than a peremptory and inva
riable injunction, affecting whoever comes within the control of
the legislating body. The romish church did not enforce celibacy
either upon the clergy of the eastern church, or upon persian
mages ; for its jurisdiction did not extend so far; but its prohi
bitions reached to the utmost border of its acknowledged autho
rity ; yet even within that circle, while it laid down an irreversible
law, admitting of no exemptions, the most flagrant violations, both
in regard to continence and abstinence, everywhere prevailed.
The papacy took to itself these marks of an apostate church, hy
exerting all its authority for maintaining the ascetic principle and
practice, as well in relation to the secular, as the regular clergy.
But then the nicene church, long before, had done the very same
thing, and had, in like manner, branded itself as apostate, and not
incidentally or partially, but by directing the steady force of its
utmost influence toward the end of giving extensive effect to the
ascetic rule of life.J ^The only style of Christianity which it would
consent to speak of as complete, and pre-eminently excellent,
was that which observed the ascetic rule. The highest enco
miums, as we have seen, were lavished upon these two foremost
articles of the monastic institute — virginity, and fasting. Every
one of its great divines gives his zealous support and solemn
sanction to this institute ; and if celibacy were not sternly and inva
riably enforced upon its clergy, they were taught to think them
selves degraded if they refused to observe it. Meanwhile, as to the
ascetic body, the law of celibacy was, in the fuflest sense, absolute.
The point now before us is of no small importance ; for the
inference it involves fixes the apostolic brand of apostasy upon
« KoiXua, hinder, restrain, deny permission, or forbid, whether autho
ritatively and effectively, or only in intention ; impedio quovis modo, et factis
et verbis, quominus aliquid fiat. To prohibit by edicts, and under penalties, is
a special sense of the word. But, as well in a, more general, as iu a more
strict sense, the ancient church, i. e. of the fourth century, forbade to marry-
absolutely, within the pale ofthe ascetic community ; and generally, as to the
clergy, by the force of opinion and usage. What the Encratites did in the
second century, the church catholic did in the fourth ; and any endeavour to
affix the prediction, now before us, to that early sect, must, a fortiori, attach
it also to the ascetic system of the next age.

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY. 303
the nicene church, and therefore goes far in determining, by a
summary method, the present controversy concerning 'church
principles.' I confidentiy appeal then in this instance to unpre
judiced minds, and ask, whether or not Paul's prediction attaches
to the asceticism of the ancient church ? *
Protestant commentators, in referring to this prediction, have
been wont to caU it—' a striking prediction oi popery.' But why
of jiopery 1 as well say, ' of Spanish cathoficism,' or ' of irish
Catholicism,' The special marks herein given us, attach, distinc
tively, neither to the irish, nor to the Spanish forms of the general
superstition ; nor to the papacy itself, peculiariy. The romish
church, centuries after the monastic institute had been every
where established, and long after the time when the celibacy of
the secular clergy had been universally assented to as proper, if
not indispensable, gave its sanction, formally, to the common
opinion, by specific enactments. But in what terms had the
nicene church uttered itself on this subject long before ?— hear its
highest authority ; Certe confiteris non posse esse episcopum, qui
in episcopatu fiflos faciat ; afloqui, si deprehensus fuerit, non
quasi vir (husband) tenebitur, sed quasi adulter damnabitur.f
That is to say, in effect, whereas Paul had distinctiy spoken of a
bishop as a married man, and a father, the nicene church, having
first had its ' conscience seared as with a hot iron,' read the apo
stolic text, and then deliberately decided that a bishop who did
not separate himself from his wife, should be regarded as no better
than an adulterer! Again; Aut virgines clericos accipiunt, aut
continentes ; aut, si uxores habuerint, mariti esse detinunt.X
That is to say, whereas the Lord had solemnly decreed that ' what
God had joined together, man should not put asunder,' the nicene
church, having lost all religious sensibility of conscience, could
coolly look at this divine law, and then reverse it by its own
impious ordinance, that its ministers, in receiving orders, should
separate themselves from their wives — a law to which submission
was yielded in innumerable instances. Upon many, excommu-
* Let the reader consider, in this connexion, Jerome's statement of the
errors of Jovinian, of which he courteously says— hsec sunt sibila serpentis
antiqui. Adv. Jovin. lib. i. toward the beginniijg.
f Adveriius Jovinianum, lib. i. J Adversus Vigilantium.

304

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.

nication was actually inflicted on account of their having returned
to the society of their wives, after ordination : in many instances,
when married men had been promoted to ecclesiastical dignities
in compliance with the tumultuous wfll of the populace, a long
course of penance was imposed upon them, in order to expiate the
offence. In several recorded instances men who sincerely desired
to evade such promotions pleaded their disqualification, on the
very ground of their being married men. The second council
of Carthage, held within the limits of the nicene era, thus speaks ;
— Omnibus (episcopis) placet, ut episcopi, presbyteri, et diaeoni,
et qui sacramenta contrectant, pudicitise custodes, etiam ab uxo-
ribus se abstineant!* Epiphaniusf offers an apology for those
cases in which, by sheer necessity, married men had been admitted
to priest's orders ; and, from Cyprian downwards, the flagrant
impiety of a man's ' putting away his wife,' when promoted to the
episcopate, received authentication in the practice of the most
eminent persons. During the same time, not only did thousands
yield obedience to the monastic law, and renounce marriage ;
but hundreds put away their wives, deserted their children, and
hid themselves in monasteries ; and their doing so, especially
when they surrendered their patrimony to the Church, was lauded
as the highest act of piety. J
Does then the prophetic mark of ' forbidding to marry,' attach,
or not, to the nicene church generally, and to the monastic insti
tute specifically ; or is it equitable to go on saying, as we have
been used to do, that this is a sign of the apostate paTfiacy 1 Is
not this a question simply historical, and admitting of a peremp
tory answer — Yea or Nay ?
As to the other definite sign, the ' commanding to abstain from
meat,'§ there can, I think, be no need to adduce formal evidence.
The practices of abstinence from animal food, and the frequent
and rigorous fasts enjoined by the ancient church, and especially
* Con Carthag. can. 2. t Haeres. 59, and Expositio, sect. xxi.
t Basil will be hereafter cited in illustration of this article of the monastic
economy-namely the surrender of all property, and this, generally, to the
monastery. ... ,i,„
S In what way these two main articles of asceticism bore one upon the
other producing the worst evils, appears from the confessions of the monkish
writers ; see, for instance, Cassian, p. 759, el seq , and Jerome, ad Eustoch.

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.

305

enforced within the monastic houses, are too well understood, and
have been too often described, to leave room for a question on the
subject. But let us turn to the other, and less definite charac
teristics of the predicted apostasy, and in doing so we may recede,
in our order, from the points already considered.
These apostate communities, or individuals, within the Church,
we are told, were so to speak and act, as to prove that they had
lost their sensibility as religious men — ' having their consciences
seared as with a hot iron ' — that is to say, as when to an ulce
rated or mortified limb (according to the rough methods of the
ancient surgery) a heated iron was applied, with the intention of
destroying for ever the sensibility of the diseased part. What
then may be the meaning of this bold figure as applied to those
who prohibited marriage, and enjoined fasting ? One should
say, that it described the state of mind of those who, having
surrendered themselves to the influence of some pernicious
religious principle, had, in so doing, become unconscious of, or
incapable of perceiving, the very plainest injunctions of the divine
law. A similar condition of the conscience we have an instance
of in the pharisees, to whom our Lord applies, with indignant
scorn, the epithets — 'fools and blind; — pharisee, hypocrite —
blind pharisee ! ' and who, with God's law before them, to which
they owned submission, yet set it at defiance, and made it void
by their wicked and foolish enactments.
What phrase then can better describe, in so few words, the
religious condition of the ascetic mind ? The false oriental
phflosophy having been admitted, which put abstraction and
penance in the room of the Gospel and of true hofiness, an
infatuation thenceforward took possession of all minds, so that
the most extreme contradictions of the inspired rules of morality
were allowed and approved, even while this rule itself was daily
before the eyes, and was echoing in the ears of all. A sufflcient
instance of this sort of contumacy is the one that has been already
adduced. No practical rule, anywhere found in the apostofic
writings, is more clear, or more free from ambiguity, than that which
permits, and, at the \e&st,recommends the marriage state to bishops ;
nevertheless, with this rule full in its view, the nicene church
forbade matrimony to its bishops. Our Lord, in the tone of the

^^^ THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.
supreme lawgiver, said, ' let not man put asunder what God has
joined ;' and the Apostle determines that even the heathenism of
one party should not be held a ground of exception to this rule.
But the nicene church, fully informed of God's law in this
respect, coofly decided otherwise, and, on pain of degradation, or
even excommunication, decreed that a priest or bishop, if already
married, should separate himself from his wife ; and it pronounced
those who did not do so, to be living in adultery ! Christ had
said, to do this is a sin : the nicene church said, not to do it is a
sin ; and to do it is an angelic merit. The Apostie says, ' whore
mongers and adulterers God will judge :' the Church said, he is
an adulterer who, on receiving priest's orders, does not put away
his wife ! This then is what we may well understand as ' the
having the conscience seared as with a hot iron.'*
On this point, again, let the injustice that has so long been
done to the church of Rome, by protestants, be adverted to and
disclaimed. To the vast majority of all who have lived under
the shadow of the papacy — clergy and laity, the Scriptures have
ever been sealed, or at best, very partially known ; and not
known at all, as to the passages that are flatly opposed to the
romish errors. With respect to such, therefore, there did not
take place this cauterizing of the conscience ; and many affecting
instances are on record, of the painful sensibility of those who,
happening to hear something more than they had heretofore
learned of God's word, mournfully exclaimed — ' If this be God's
word, afl that we have hitherto been taught, is utterly false.' But
the case was quite otherwise with the nicene church ; and this
indeed is at once its wonder, its merit in one sense, and its sin in
another, that, whfle the grossest superstitions were promoted, and
the most outrageous violations of scriptural piety were practised,
the Scriptures themselves were copiously read and expounded in
the churches, and were actually in the hands of the opulent, at
* Perhaps we could nowhere find a more striking instance of this cauter
izing of the conscience, than in the case of Jerome, who, with more knowledge
of the Scriptures than any other divine of his times (and few of any age have
in this respect surpassed him) coolly cuts a path for himself through the
sacred text, whenever he has « point of superstition to carry. His tracts
against Jovinian and Vigilantius abound with instances of this kind of
audacity.

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.

307

least, and were thoroughly familiar to many of the ascetics.''' In
whatever way we may account for this inconsistency, the fact
should surely be taken into the reckoning when we are balancing
the merits of the nicene and romish churches ; and if the parti
cular mark of a cauterized conscience be in question, it must be
granted to attach more directiy to those who, knowing fully their
Lord's wfll, yet boldly set it at nought, than to those who,
although doing the same thing, knew not that wfll.
' In hypocrisy of liars' — narrating falsehoods, for the purpose,
as we colloquially say, of ' making out a case,' or of ' putting
a good face upon things.' Now one can hardly imagine a phrase
that could better describe the legend-telling style of the ascetic
writers. There is absolutely no class of writers, in the whole
range of literature, at all to be compared with these, in this
respect. Wonder-mongers are they, from the earliest to the
latest of the tribe ; and these wonders — these tales of exploits,
passing human strength and virtue, have all one meaning, and
one and the same manifest intention, namely, that of glorifying
the ascetic institute. Open these books where you please, and
you will rarely find two pages together destitute of some tale
of saintly prowess ; and each has the ever-recurring moral —
'What giants of piety are we monks!' Let the reader say
whether it be not so, and for this purpose let him take in hand
any one of the nicene ascetic writers, and then decide whether
this mark also of the predicted apostasy does not belong to the
ascetic institute of the ancient church. Are not the ascetics the
tellers and makers of falsehoods, for an interested purpose—' in
hypocrisy ?'-|-
' Giving heed to seducing spirits, and teachings of, or concern
ing, demons.' Of all error, and of each error in particular, it
might be affirmed, that it was suggested by evil spirits : the
* It is affirmed by Palladius, Jerome, and others, in their lives of the
hermits, that some of them could repeat, memoriter, a large portion of the
Scriptures, and some, tho New Testament entire.
t Jerome's Life of St. Hilarion, Iiis contemporary, I recommend entire to
the calm consideration of those who would satisfy themselves as to the point
now in hand. Let this piece be included among those selected, to make up
the Library of the Fathers : the christian community would then fairly know
what is before them.

^^^ THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.
phrases thus understood would therefore have no specific import
nor could they avafl us in endeavouring to attach the prediction to
any one ofthe thousand heresies that have sprung up within the
Church. But as it is the characteristic of the prophetic style to
he deflnUe, we must take these phrases in their characteristic
sense, and assume that the ' teachings,' to which ' some should
give heed,' were narrations, and pretended revelations, concern
ing supernal beings, or the invisible species that are believed to
haunt the earth. Now what is that element which we find every
where mixed up with the ascetic records ? what is it by which
the continence, the abstinences, the macerations, and the miracles
ofthe ascetic worthies are made to assume a dramatic air? Is
it not the ever-recurring tales of conflicts, personal and visible,
with the infernal legions ? Is not this taste for demonological
adventures the very characteristic of monkery ? and has it not
been so from the earfiest to the latest times ? The farce of
monkery has, in every age, shown the same personages on the
stage— namely, the gaunt spectres of humanity, the monks and
hermits, and the sarae aerial troops, besetting these heroes like
swarms of wasps. In proof and fllustration of afl these pre
dicted characteristics of the ancient asceticism, we could not do
better than appeal to the most elaborate, and the most authentic
of all the extant memorials of this order of piety — the piece I
have already referred to— Athanasius's Life of St. Anthony. In
this we have a genuine portrait of nicene monkery in its very
fairest colours ; and the features it presents are 'precisely those
which constitute the prophetic marks of the predicted apostasy. —
That is to say — a sternly enforced celibacy, as the chief of all
virtues — a rigorous system of abstinence, entire as to animal food,
and extreme in all kinds* — a daring contrariety to scripture
precepts and principles, even while Scripture is on the lip —
an unbounded credulity, in regard to invisible agency — and a
general style of pretension, as to miraculous powers, and super-
"¦ Jerome, in his Life of Hilarion, describes very minutely and solemnly,
the saint's diet in each period of his long ascetic course, who never broke his
fast until sunset. No person of ingenuous mind can read this life and not
acknowledge that the nicene asceticism is distinctly marked as the apostasy
which Paul predicted.

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY. 309
human virtues, such as involves more than a suspicion of
deliberate knavery. I must here warmly recommend the
conscientious inquirer, first, to fix in his mind the several
particulars of Paul's characteristics of the coming apostasy,
and then to peruse those memorials of the nicene asceticism
which he wfll find in the church historians, Socrates, Sozomen,
and Theodoret^ and in Athanasius, Chrysostom, Palladius, and
Jerome. But there yet remains a mark to be considered. Those who
should apostatize, were to do so in giving heed to ' seducing
spirits.' — ' False teachers,' say the commentators, and no doubt
truly ; hut yet too indefinitely. As any heresy or error may be
attributed to the influence of infernal suggestions, so does every
error take its rise from, and spread by the means of ' false
t-eachers ;' — this vague interpretation, therefore, although true
generically, does not aid us in attaching the prediction to its
object : so understood, the terms wfll apply to whatever we
please. Let it be inquired then, whether there be not a meaning
more precise, couched in the phraseology. The ' giving heed,'
seems to indicate a listening to something from without, as if a
doctrine of extraneous origin had caught the ear of the com
munity, and had captivated certain minds. Now, with the facts
before us, that the Church borrowed, as wefl the principle, as the
practices and rules of its asceticism from the oriental contempla-
tists, the phrase in question receives at once a specific meaning.
Those who ' turned away from the faith,' did so in listening to a
foreign doctrine..
Should we then assume more than history makes good in
understanding these ' seducing spirits,' as the gnostic teachers,
arrogating to themselves the titie irvtu/Kan/cot, and whose doctrine
was not merely seductive, or erroneous, in a general sense, but
specifically characterized by its lawless and interminable roamings
through the unknown regions of the spiritual universe ? Such,
eminently, were those impostors and dreamers, in giving heed
to whom the more ardent and meditative members of the eariy
church fell into the snare of the oriental asceticism, and became
the authors of a system of factitious pietism, which quickly
displaced apostofic Christianity.

310

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.

Let it be imagined that monkery had been confined to the
eastern church, and that it had not arisen until the sixth century,
so as to have stood related in no way to any system with which
our modern opinions or institutions are implicated. In that
case, we should have felt no difficulty in appropriating to it the
apostofic prediction of an apostasy, arising within the Church,
and marked by the prohibition of marriage and of meats, by
contempt of the divine law, by impudent pretensions and hypo
crisies, and by a boundless credufity, in regard to demoniacal
agency. These characters must have been enough to convince
us that the prediction had received its fulfilment. But, in fact,
this same asceticisra has, in an equal degree, affected the western
church; nor have protestant commentators hesitated — how
should they hesitate in so plain a case? — to avail themselves
of this prediction, as marking the apostasy of Rome. But
in our eagerness — the eagerness natural to controvertists, to
attach this brand to the papacy, we have too much forgotten
that Rome only inherited and shared the more ancient apostasy.
What justice then, or what historical accuracy, is there in the
customary protestant comment on this passage — ' a clear predic
tion of the monastic system of the romish church ? ' With quite
as much propriety might the belief of the resurrection be called
' a dogma of the papacy.'
Popery wifl live so long as those corruptions continue to he
caUed popish which, in fact, were much more ancient. In
fhe present instance I appeal to candid minds, competently
informed in church history, and ask whether the Brand of
Apostasy be not herein fixed by the apostofic hand upon — the
Nicene Church ? Perhaps no method more conclusive could be
adopted by a conscientious inquirer, in relation to the present
controversy, than that of so making himself acquainted with the
Ascetic Institution of the fourth century, as to be able to reply,
for himself, to the question— Whether that institution meets and
satisfies the terms of the predicted apostasy ?
I am inclined to press this definite argument, nor shall
easfly consent to its heing evaded. Nothing can be more clear
than the process of reasoning we have to pursue ; for a multi
farious controversy converges to a focus at this point. The

THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.

311

Christianity of the fourth century Is now proposed to us as our
pattern, or as an embodied exposition of the Apostolic Mind,
written and unwritten. Specifically, this body of principles and
practices is said to be contained in the extant writings of Athana
sius, Basfl, and Ambrose. (Let any others he added ; protestants
will except against none.) Now these writers, along with their
contemporaries, have handed down to us, with their warmest
approval, beside the great dogmas of theology, and the general
principles of christian morality, and of worship, and of church
government, a certain artificial scheme of life, not enjoined indeed
upon all christians, but recommended as ' the more exceUent
way,' and as that which the most devoted souls would always
embrace. By eminence this scheme is, in their view, the path
of perfection.
Moreover it is a simple historical fact, that this same scheme of
life, unaltered in any of its principles or requirements, has come
down from age to age, and is now extant, entire, as a main ele
ment of romanism. The monkery of the papacy, is, in forin and
in substance — the ascetic system of the third and fourth centu
ries. The difference between the two does not amount to so
much as the diversities that distinguish one order of regulars from
another. If an exception to the present argument can be raised
upon the ground of the difference between papistical monkery
and nicene asceticism, let that difference be clearly stated, and be
shown also to be such as affects our intended conclusion.
But, in the monkery of romanism, and not less so in the nicene
ascetic institute, we find, beyond question, Paul's marks of the
coming apostasy ; nor is there any other system, or body, or sect,
within or around the pale of the Church, to which these designa
tions can be made to attach.
It is also to be observed, and the highest importance belongs
to the fact, that, while the reformers, german, swiss, and english,
paid a religious regard to antiquity, and have left many proofs of
their desire to adhere to it as far as they could, they, one and all,
utterly rejected the ancient asceticism, and carefufly separated
the churches they founded, from the branded apostasy, ancient
and strongly recommended as it was.
Again, it is to be noticed that those who, at the present moment,
Y 2

312 THE PREDICTED ASCETIC APOSTASY.
are explicitiy or covertiy giving it to be understood that they
have very littie sympathy with the reformers, and that they would
gladly put the nicene fathers in their room, are also favourably
looking toward the ancient ascetic institute, in its several elements,
and are not hesitating to recommend its characteristic articles.
These momentous considerations and these facts, I recommend to
the dispassionate attention of those whose consciences are not
' seared as with a hot iron.'
Let it not however be supposed that I would apply this, or any
such phrase, in an opprobrious sense, to the present promoters of
asceticism ; or as if it implied, in their case, a moral turpitude,
or a conscious resistance to truth perceived. What it does
imply, in my own use of it in this instance, may be otherwise
termed, a being given up to an infatuation, which, like a thick
fog, actually conceals from the view objects the nearest at hand.
Our own tiraes have furnished two or three signal instances of
this sort of ' strong delusion,' of which some have become the
victims whose sincerity ought not to be questioned, and who
have given notoriety to their pitiable fate by eminent powers of
mind, and many shining accomplishments. In considering cases
of this sort, a grim suspicion as to the real origin, or, as one
might say — authorship ol such delusions forces itself upon the
mind, and returns, again and again, after it may have been dis
missed at the remonstrance either of scepticism, or of charity.
The counterfeit piety of the monastic system was the fatally
successful ' temptation ' of the ancient church : — the revival of
the very same system, under the attractive colours of a high-
wrought refinement — to what can we trace it, but to the immortal
craft of the same adversary ?

313

THE EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND
THE SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE
NICENE CHURCH.

Nothing is more monotonous than the story of monkish life,
whether pagan, christian, or mahometan. This ignis fatuus of
the ecclesiastical levels, find it in what climate we may ; or,
whether we look for it in our own times, or in the middle ages,
or in the nicene age, or in the remotest periods of history, shows
the same forms, and the same hue. Like the long trains of figures
that adorn the passages of an egyptian temple, there is throughout,
one costume, one physiognomy, one style of attitudes, one dull
ground, and one or two crude colours.
It is surprising to find in how small a degree either the widest
diversities of refigious belief, or the most extensive differences of
climate and national character, have modified this immemorial
species of insanity. During the lapse of at least three thousand
years, the principles, the aim, the practices, and even the visible
and graphic characteristics of the ascetics, whether eremite or
coenobite, have remained nearly the same ; or have varied only
as a flower in the green-house may differ from its variety, afield.
It is, in fact, just thus that the nicene monkery is to be distin
guished from that of the nuhian gymnosophists, and the Indian
brachmans, of the remotest antiquity. The high and close tem
perature of the Church, brought out richer colours and more
leafage ; and even, sometiraes, we may allow, a better fruit ; but
the plant has always been the same.
The chagrin of the romish missionaries in finding, wherever
buddhism had prevafled, the very counterpart of their own

314 EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE
hierarchichal and monastic system, was occasioned by the near
resemblance, or rather identity of afl institutes founded upon the
ascetic principle—' The devfl,' said they, ' has been at work here,
spitefully mimicking the Church, for our special mortification.'
These good and zealous men would have kept nearer, at once, to
historical and to theological truth, in saying that what the crafty
adversary had really done was to set the Church mimicking pagan
delusions. Madmen are said to he insensible to changes of temperature ;
for the mind, having come under the tyranny of some one idea,
or single class of impressions, ceases to be conscious of whatever
might divert it. Sultry heat and extreme frost are the same to
the maniac ; and thus too, and it is a highly curious fact, the
ascetics of the torrid zone were not surpassed, as to contempt of
the extremes of heat and cold, by the anchorets of the then frozen
forests of Germany and Gaul, who would give up no point of
their discipline — a discipline borrowed from Syria and Egypt,
during the utmost severities of a northern winter. Should this
fortitude be regarded as the mfld constancy of christian courage,
or as the iron insensibility of lunacy ?
The burning solitudes of Upper Egypt,* and the craggy seclu
sions of Nubia, had, from time immemorial, been occupied by a
race of troglodyte sages, whose successors ofthe nicene era adhered
to the very same modes of life, and professed the very same
abstract principles, differing only in the phrases they made use of,
and in the circumstance of putting themselves in alliance with the
Church. The Church, on her part, acknowledged them as her
most iflustrious and devoted sons, and made them the objects of
her unmeasured admiration, India was however the cradle of
the anchoretic life, and Buddhu the father of its doctrines ; and
in like manner as afl Christendom, during many oenturies, was
accustomed to look to Egypt and Nubia for its brightest patterns
of holy abstraction and mortification, so did these refer to the
banks of the Indus and the Ganges, as the sources of their doc
trine and practice.
« The excavated rocks which, in earlier times, had been tenanted by
robbers, or by outlaws, and afterwards by the coiners of base money, (Jerom.
Vita S. Paul,) afforded sepulchral shelter to the christian ascetics.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH. 315
Strabo,* Arrian,f Diodorus Siculus.J; Porphyry,§ Lucian,|| as
well as several of the fathers, especiaUy Clement of Alexandria,^}
and Augustine,** have handed down incidental notices of the
philosophy and manners of the Indian and egyptian gymnoso
phists, such as are amply sufficient for the purpose of identifying
the ancient, and the more recent — the buddhist, and the christian
ascetic institute. These professors of a divine philosophy, like
their christian imitators, went nearly naked; they occupied
caverns or chinks in the rocks ; they abstained entirely from
animal food ; they professed inviolable virginity ;tt they prac
tised penance ; they passed the greater part of their time in mute
meditation ; they imposed sflence and absolute submission upon
their disciples ; they professed the doctrine that thp perfection
of human nature consists in an annihilation of the passions, and
of every affection which nature has iraplanted, whether in the
animal or the mental constitution : abnegation was, with them, the
one point of wisdom and virtue ; and a reabsorption of the human
soul into the abyss of the divine mind, was the happy end of the
present system, to the pure and wise.
Now one might reasonably have supposed that a system of
doctrine and practice such as this, if it were to come at all under
the powerful influence of Christianity, must have admitted some
extensive modifications : but it was not so in fact: — a few phrases
and another dialect, or slang, adopted, make almost all the differ
ence which serves to distinguish the ancient gymnosophist, from
the christian anchoret of the nicene age. If we are to confide in
those highly encomiastic descriptions of these latter, which adorn
the pages of the christian writers of that era, the one institute was
a close imitation of the other. The extant information bearing
on this subject, is not scanty, and it is furnished, explicitly, or is
* Strabo, lib. xv.
f Arrian, Exped. Alex. lib. vii. o. 1 ; and Hist. Ind. ell.
t Diod. lib. ii.
§ Porph. de Abstinent, lib. iv.
II Lucian, Fugitivi.
If Clemens, Strom, lib. i. and iii.
"* August. Civ. Dei, lib. xiv. c. 17; and lib. xv. c. 20.
tt Non enim est hoc bonum, nisi cum fit secundum fidem summi boni, qui
est Deus. Civ. Dei.

3Iff EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE
incidentally confirmed, hy Eusebius, Socrates, Sozomen,* Theo
doret, Athanasius, Palladius, Sulpitius Severus, Cassian, Jeromey
Chrysostom, Basil, Augustine, Isidore, Ephrem ; some of whom
furnish the minutest details of the ' seraphic life,' and afl speak
of it in terras of wonder and admiration.
The more rigid and heroic of the christian anchorets dispensed
with all clothing except a rug, or a few palm-leaves round the
loins. -|- Most of them abstained from the use of water for ablu
tion ;I nor did they usually wash or change the garments they
had once put on ; thus St. Antony bequeathed to Athanasius
a skin in which his sacred person had been wrapped for half a
century. They also allowed their beards and nails to grow, and
sometimes became so hirsute, as to be actually mistaken for
hyaenas or bears. § It need not be said that celibacy was the first
law of this institute, and that an abstinence the most rigid was
its second law. Many, having scooped narrow cells in the
crevices of precipitous rocks, buflt themselves in, leaving only a
smafl aperture,, and then depended entirely upon the piety of their
disciples, or admirers, for supplying their dafly wants. Of many
it is affirmed that they had passed fifty years without exchanging
a word with a human creature. Some inflicted upon themselves
the tortures of perpetual ulceration.
Egypt seems to have been the centre of asceticism in its most
terrible form ; and it was therefore toward Egypt that the nicene
writers directed the eyes of the Church, as to the high school of
sacred wisdom. In Syria, in Arabia, and in the mountainous
* Perhaps thefe is nowhere to be found a less exceptionable statement of
the nature and purport of the monastic life than the one given by Sozomen,
lib. i. c. 12. He subjoins also a reasonable history of the origin of the insH-
tution ; but let the reader go on to the history of the monk Ammon!
t Jerom. Vita S. Paul. .
I • It is idle to think o! cleanliness in a hair-cloth V Jerom. Vita Hilarion.
*H Viiii^€Vos k4v roiis 7r6das BSari. Athan. Vita S. Ant. p. 50*.
§ Palladius reports several instances of this kind : it is superfluous to cite
passages in reference to facts which have been so often stated, and,which no
one calls in question. The only circumstance important to our argument is
this that the extravagances often spoken of as attaching to the more recent
moiikery took their pattern from the ascetics of the nicene age ; and of this
no one can entertain a doubt who reads Jerome, Cassian, Athanasius, Sulpi
tius, Palladius, and Socrates.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH. 317
regions of Asia Minor, especiaUy in Pisidia and Cappadocia, a
somewhat mitigated rule of the solitary and monastic life appears
to have prevailed ; the hermits building huts, comparatively com
modious, in the middle and higher regions of the mountains ; and
often choosing, likeBasfl, the most delicious spots for their abode ;*
and admitting just so much relaxation of discipline, as might
render this mode of life not altogether uninviting to those who, in
embracing it, left behind them the racking anxieties, the wrongs,
and the privations of common life. To many, celibacy and fasting
were but a moderate price to pay for tranquillity, and an exemp
tion from laborious courses, or dangerous services ; especially if
already the fervour of life was gone by, and if, as with many,
appetite had been abated by disease, or early luxurious habits.
At what time, precisely, the wilderness exchanged its pagan for
a christian tenantry, it is not easy to ascertain. In some instances,
no doubt, the very individuals who had begun their course as
heathen gymnosophists, ended it as christian anchorets. But
oftener, probably, the deserted cell or cavern of the savage philo
sopher was taken possession of by one who, having, in the neigh
bouring cities, received some knowledge of the Gospel, betook
himself to the angelic life in consequence of persecutions, or of
disappointments in love or in business. This is certain, that many
of these solitaries were wefl acquainted with the Scriptures, and
must therefore have passed some years in christian society.-f
The coenobite institution reached its organized state in an irre
gular manner, and continued, to a late period, open to many
anomalies. In frequdht instances, those who professed virginity
or continence, continued to reside with their friends, and in fact
lived at large, using their profession as a general license, or ticket
of liberty, exempting them from the restraints which the manners
of the age and country, as well as the common sentiments of
* Basil, a thorough enthusiast, as to the ascetic life, paints it in the brightest
colours ; his epistles to Nazianzen might seduce any imaginative reader into
the wilderness ; if indeed he could find a wilderness such as Basil describes
in a letter to his friend. Nazian. tom. i. p. 835.
t The writings of Ephrem may be referred to as a sample of the mode of
instruction usual in the monasteries, and which, whatever may have been its
defects, yet embodied copious citations of Scripture. Some of this writer's
sermons are little more than strings of texts.

318 EXTENT oi' THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE
modesty, imposed upon women wishing stfll to be regarded hy the
other sex as worthy to be chosen as wives. In truth, the reserves
to which, in the ancient world, all women of the liberal class were
subjected, were broken through, as on the one hand by courtesans,
so on the other by the virgins of the Church ; nor did the circum
stance of enjoying, in common with the former, a liberty from
which others were debarred, fail to convey an infectious sentiment
of shamelessness to the habits and sentiments of the latter. Who
is it that appears in public places, unattended, unveiled, and
daintily attired ? Who and what is she ?  no, you are
wrong in your conjecture ; it is ' a virgin of the church.' *
The contubernium, or Koiyofiwy, offered many advantages to
those who had renounced the business and relationships of common
life. It excluded some scandals, or at least hid them. Moreover
in these religious lodging houses, a common fund, derived in part
from the church chest, and in part from the dedicated, or seques
tered, or bequeathed property of the richer members ofthe society,
might the most easily be distributed. The society (brotherhood
or sisterhood) thus assembled under one roof, was conveniently
subjected to the visitations of the clergy, and so came under
the direct authority of the bishop. f Nor should we, in justice,
omit to say that within these seclusions the routine of religious
services would, with the most effect, be carried on, and the rules
ofthe monastic life be the best enforced. At the same time those
manual labours which were an important ingredient of the system,
could, in such houses, be rendered the most serviceable, and be
made to press evenly upon all, and to contribute to the support
of afl.
Monasteries and convents, in the modern sense of the terms,
do not belong to the nicene age ; and it was the praise of the
romish church, and especiaUy of certain reformers, celebrated as
the founders of orders, to have gradually brought the irregular
and scandalous practices of an eariier time under some wholesome
' Further on I have made a reference to Chrysostom, in relation to the
manners of the nuns, which those will turn to who are incredulous on the
subject ; and which those will gladly avoid, who would not infect their own
minds. ,
t Chryostom. de Sacerdotio, lib. iii. mentions, among the heaviest and
most difficult duties of the bishop, his superintendence of the virgins.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH. 319
restraints. Unquestionably the monkery of the middle ages was
better ordered than that of the nicene.*
The loose, and often exaggerated style of church writers, when
speaking of the extent of the system which they so much ad
mired, discourages the endeavour to ascertain, even in a general
way, the actual numbers of the anchorets and monks in different
countries. This number no doubt varied, from year to year, with
the changing fortunes of the christian body ; times of persecution,
as well as of public calamity, driving multitudes into the wilder
ness who, during seasons of peace, would not have abandoned
their places in society. Then again the extraordinary reputation
of certain heroes of asceticism, or an unusual flush ofthe fanatical
impulse, affecting the Church, locally or generally, for a whfle,
would operate to swell these bands, which might afterwards see
themselves reduced (if we may borrow a military term) to a
skeleton. Some of the egyptian abbots are spoken of as having had five,
seven, or even ten thousand monks under their personal direction ; ^
and the Thebaid, as well as certain spots in Arabia, is reported
to have been literaUy crowded with solitaries. Nearly a hundred
thousand, of all classes, it is said, were at one time to be found in
Egypt. The western church, probably, could boast of no such
swarms. This however is certain, that, although the enthusiasm
might be at a lower ebb in one country than in another, it actually
affected the church universal, so far as the extant materials of
ecclesiastical history enable us to trace its rise and progress.
These materials, that is to say, the writings of the fathers, and
the church historians, leave no doubt as to the prevalence of the
ascetic system throughout the countries to which they themselves
* The reader may perhaps here recollect the comparison so indignantly
drawn by Erasmus (Vita Hieron.) between the monkery of his own times, and
that of the times of Jerome i and it may appear as if this high authority con
tradicted what is affirmed above. But in fact what Erasmus insists upon is
the inanity and misery and frivolity of the monks, his contemporaries, as
compared with the license enjoyed by those of Jerome's times. He does not
say that this liberty did not give room for much licentiousness. ¦ Nor, in
truth, are his statements, in the passage referred to, borne out by the actual
evidence. Basil and Cassian contradict him in each point ol his encomium
of the ancient monastic system.

320

EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, ASD THE

belonged, namely-Syria, Egypt, Arabia, Asia Minor, Thrace,
Italy, Gaul, Spain, and North Africa. Moreover, the narratives
which they have furnished of the propagation of the Gospel in
countries remote from the shores of the Mediterranean, and beyond
the limits of the roman empire, make it evident that in most
mstances the individuals who carried the knowledge of Christianity
into those countries, carried it under its ascetic guise.*
An absolute universality of assent can scarcely be pretended
in support of any one article of the christian faith:— there have
been some to oppose, or to deny almost every doctrine, in its
turn. What is practically meant hy the ab omnibus is— Me
greater number. Orthodoxy, during some eras, could by no
means claim the majority as its adherents. As to the ascetic
principle, the assent of the church is more neariy complete than
in most cases, and the dissidents (hereafter to be spoken of) were
very ie'/f. It may however be well, in order to exclude excep
tions or doubts, on the part of those who are not conversant with
church literature, to run over the fist, and summarfly to report
the suffrages of all whose testimony can be of any importance.
But in doing so, as I have had, and shafl yet have, to cite, or to
refer to particular passages in these same authors, all bearing on
the subject of the ascetic institute, a general statement, such as
I am sure will not be contradicted by any who are themselves
famfliar with the patristic volumes, is all that can be needed.
What we have now in view is not the earlier history of the
ascetic practice, but the credit it enjoyed, and its universality in
the nicene age; — or, more definitely, during the fourth century.
We need not therefore here go back to Tertullian, Cyprian,
Origen, Dionysius, concerning whose opinions, however, there
can be no question.
* The reader may find a pertinent instance, related by Socrates, lib. i. c. 20,
concerning the conversion of the Hiberians (between the Euxine and the
Caspian) who were brought over to the faith by the means of a christian
slave, who ' led the philosophic life,' practising the ascetic discipline with
the extremes! severity. See also Sozomen, lib. ii. c. 7. Another instance of
the same sort this writer reports, lib. iv. c. 36, concerning the conversion of
the Saracens. The conversion of India, under the direction of Athanasius,
Soz. lib. ii. c. 24, we cannot doubt to have been eifected in the ascetic spirit.
The reconversion of Britain under the auspices of Gregory I has the sarae
characteristics.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH. 321
The extant writers of this period (those not included of whom
some fragments only remain) are not more in number than about
twenty. We shall glance at them in their order.
The first to be named, and who finished his course in the last
years of the third century, is Methodius, bishop of Olympus in
Lycia, and afterwards of Tyre, and a martyr. This writer (com
mended by Jerome*) speaks the sentiments of the Church in the
time of Cyprian. A tone of moderation distinguishes his
writings ; and amid the vagaries of an uncurbed fancy, he pays
more regard to great principles than do many of higher repute.
The Banquet (Symposium) of the Ten Virgins, assumes as true
the universal opinion, that virginity is the highest of all ex
cellences, and that it is the only way of near approach to God,
which is possible on earth.'f' In this writer then we find, and
apart from the fanaticism and extravagance of the nicene
divines, that settled opinion of the ancient church from which
sprung, inevitably, the ripe monkish system, and at length, the
enforced celibacy of the clergy. Men of mild disposition, like
Methodius, if they did not ' forbid to marry,' effectively restrained
from marrying ; and in fact, writings such as his were likely to
have more influence in spreading the error, than those of a
sterner character. It may be noticed that Methodius (as quoted
by Theodoret) holds that lofty style concerning martyrdom,
which we have mentioned as running parallel with the ascetic
enthusiasm. Lactantius, the christian Cicero, and who is better worth the
reading than most of his contemporaries, had far too much vigour
of mind to give himself blindly to the extravagances common in
his times ; nevertheless he too accepts, as unquestionable, the
opinion concerning the transcendental excellence of absolute
continence ; and he says of one who adheres to it, adopting the
universal style, hie erit consimilis Deo, qui virtutem Dei cepit .-J
and he affirms that continence is the height and consummation of
all the virtues : he alludes also to the ' plurimi,' and the ' multi,'
who, in his times, preserved the ' blessed and incorrupt integrity
of the body,' and who made proof of this ' celestial mode of life.'
* Catalogus Script. Eccles. t As quoted by Photius, Myriob. art. 237,
X Lactant. de Vero Cultu, lib. vi. c. 23.

322 EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE
At the same time this writer's very slender or ambiguous reference
to any doctrine properly evangelic, ought to be noticed, Christ,
in his view, lived and died as a pattern of all virtue, and that he
might relieve men from an excessive fear of death, and show them
how to subdue the passions. Such, at this early time, was the
cold socinianism of too many, calling themselves christians I*
A place among the authorities of the nicene age ought certainly
to be allowed to the council of Nice itself; and in connexion
with our present subject, a part of its proceedings, if we are to
give credit to Socrates and Sozomen, demands to be noticed;
premising only an explanatory statement concerning the opinion
of the Church, as indicated by the decrees of preceding councfls.
The council of Ancyra, held at the commencement of the fourth
century, had decreed,! and its decision expresses the feeling, as
well as defines the practice, of the Church at the time, that, if a
deacon, when he received ordination, made an explicit profession
of his intention to marry, as being in his own case unavoidable,
he should be permitted to do so, the bishop's ficense to that effect
screening him from future censures. But that if, at the time, he
made no such protestation ; and on the contrary aflowed it to be
supposed that he professed continence, and yet afterwards married,
he should be removed from his ministry. What was this restricted
permission to marry, but a virtual ' forbidding to marry'? It
was cleariy an expression ofthe unfitness of the married for the
sacred ofiice, and thus an infatuated contravention of the apostolic
rule, on this very point. I cannot but notice, in passing, the
curious coincidence that, as appears from the Uth canon of this
councfl, there were at this time some of the clergy—' priests and
deacons," who not merely abstained from animal food, but who
held it in such abhorrence, that they would not even touch any
vegetables that had been cooked with it. The simple abstinence
the councfl albws ; but condemns this extreme scrupulosity.
Did not the prophetic marks attach to the ante-nicene church?!
« Lactant. de vera Sapientia, lib. iv. t Canon 9. Eouth, ^^^^^
1 There was a well understood physical connexion between the two mam
alles the ascetic life. Rigorous fasting, says Jerome, -d n- k^w
¦better than he how necessary it was in this respect, is -dispensable ^o^
who would be perfect, quod aliter pudicitia tuta esse non possit. Ad Eustoch.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH.

323

The same council (canon 19) decreed that those who falsified
their profession of virginity, should be numbered among such as
had contracted a second marriage ! The same canon prohibits
the cohabitmg of virgins with men — a custom of which we find
the traces in all directions. The nuns, thus living under the
protection of their spiritual guardians, were denominated their
• sisters,' or ' darlings,' ayoTri/rai.
The synod of Neoctesarea, held about the same time,* or a
fittie later, but before the councfl of Nice, decreed that a priest
marrying, should be deposed. If this be not a ' forbidding to
marry,' what are the enactments of HUdebrand ? It is true that,
at this time and long afterwards, many priests, and even bishops,
continued to live with their wives, and had children born to them,
although still approaching the altar ; but none (except the dea
cons who had made this express stipulation,) were allowed to
marry after ordination.-j- For a second marriage, the church
imposed a course of penance, more or less severe.
At the council of Nice, according to the accounts of Socrates, J
and Sozomen,§ who tells the sarae story, it was proposed, with a
view, as it is said, to the reformation of manners, that a rule
should be established, requiring all bishops, priests, deacons, and,
says the latter historian, subdeacons, who had married before
their ordination, to withdraw from their wives, or cease to cohabit
with them ; and the colour of the account leads us to suppose
that this regulation, which, in respect to the church universal,
was called ' a new law,' although not new to several of the
churches, was near to have been carried, and probably would
have been, had not the better feeling of one of the bishops pre
sent, defeated the fanaticism of the others. Paphnutius, a bishop
of the Thebaid, a confessor, having lost an eye in the late perse
cution, and himself an ascetic, rose, and with spirit asserted the
honour and purity of matrimony ; and insisted upon the inex
pediency of any such law, likely as it was to bring many into
a snare. For a moment reason triumphed; the proposal was
dropped, nor any thing further attempted by the insane party,
* Routh, vol. iii. p. 457. A various reading in this canon does not affijct
its meaning in relation to our immediate object.
t Routh, p. 464. X Socr. lib. i. c. 11, % Sozom. lib. i. c. 23.

324 EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE
beyond the giving a fresh sanction to the established rule or
tradition, dpxucav ^apiSoaty, that none should marry after
ordination. In these facts then, we have the evidence of a prevalent, if not
a universal feeling, against matrimony, as a pollution, and there-
fore a disquahfication in those who sustained ofiice in the Church.
And so strong was this feefing with some, that it impelled them
toward the monstrous impiety of enjoining the actual separation
of man and wife, in direct contravention of the divine law.
Moreover the fact (in other ways abundantiy established) is here
attested, that marriage after ordination, was then, and had long
been considered, as disgraceflil and unlawful : in other words, the
ancient church had deliberately taken to itself the predicted mark
of apostasy, by opposing itself to marriage, and by actually for
bidding it to all who desired to make proficiency in piety ; and
to its clergy, as such :— a married man might be ordained ; but
no ordained person might marry ! Futile must be the endeavour
to draw an important distinction between the papacy, and the
nicene church, on this ground.
It is of no importance to our present argument to fix the precise
date of the Apostolic Constitutions. This spurious compilation
may at least be taken as good evidence in relation to the notions
and usages of the nicene age, and it is manifestiy intended to
represent those of a much earlier period. This appears among
many other instances from the description given (lib. ii. c. 2,) of
the bishop's qualifications, who ' should have, or should have had,'
a wife. The class of virgins is however recognised, once and
again,* as a constituted order, in the Church. The main intention
of the authors or compilers of this collection being, however, to
hitch the christian hierarchy upon the foundation of the Aaronie
priesthood, and in fact to claim for the bishop, as Pontifex, the
utmost stretch of honour and of power, according to the theory
which Hildebrand laboured to realize, whatever does not directly
subserve this purpose is very lightly touched. That the lofty rank,
and irresponsible power assumed for the bishop, was in fact the
creation of a later age than the apostolic, we need no other proof
than the incidental one, afforded by the blunder of the forger
• Lib. ii. cap. 25, 26, 57 ; lib. iii. c. 15 ; lib. iv. c. 14 j and lib. viii. c. 24.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM IHE NICENE CHURCH. 325
of these Constitutions, who, in describing the church (the struc
ture) and* the mode of worship,* betrays the ecclesiastical costume
ol the fourth century. Of the ill opinion entertained of second
marriages, and of the infamy attached to a third, we find the
indications.f Nevertheless, and it should be remarked, the
fanatical extravagance which attaches to the language of the
great nicene writers when they enter upon subjects of this class,
is entirely avoided in the Apostolical Constitutions. In fact,
there is far less of gnosticism, and of the ascetic mania, in this
spurious work, than presents itself on the pages of Ambrose,
Basfl, Chrysostom, and their contemporaries. It might indeed
pretty fairly be appealed to as exhibiting the difference between
the ancient, and the nicene church ; the latter, rather than the
former, being the model to which we are referred by the Oxford
Tract divines.
The tenth chapter of the sixth hook enumerates, and condemns,
the wfld notions of the tiraes, including the prohibition of mar
riage, and of animal food, which was then actually insisted upon
by the ascetic party in the Church, Well had it been if the ambi
tious divines who are now commended to us as our masters, had
known how to confine themselves to the profession of faith con
tained in the eleventh chapter of this book ; w«ll, if they could
even have respected truth, in relation to subjects which they
were not compelled to make matter of piety. Let the reader
compare certain passages of Athanasius, and Basil, cited or
referred to above, with the sober propriety of the twenty-ninth
chapter. But inasmuch as ' church principles ' are not to he
supported without the aid of the divines of the fourth century,
those who, by the necessity of the case, are making their appeal
to ihem, involve^ themselves in a further necessity of either
disguising, or of professing, alraost every superstition of the
papacy — and among these errors, the inherent extravagances of
the ascetic institute.
The accomplished Eusebius of Cassarea, took up Christianity
as he found it ; and his evidence, in the present instance, merely
amounts to that of a witness to the actual state of the Church in
* Lib. ii. c. 57, and lib. viii. c. 12. ] Lib. iii. t. 2 ; lib. vi. c. 17.
z

326

EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE

his times. The customary language of admiration in regara to
religions celibacy he employs without scruple ;* speaking of the
quire of nuns as his contemporaries were wont to do.
There can be no need to make new citations from Athanasius :
I will do no more than request the reader, after referring to what
this great and holy man has written on the two allied subjects of
virginity and fasting, and after listening to his credufity concern
ing demoniacal agency, to consider whether the scheme of piety
which he so devoutly recommends is not distinctly marked with
the characteristics of the predicted apostasy. An admission that
it is so marked, may startie and distress some religious minds ;
for long cherished iflusions are not to be dispelled without pain,
amazement, and peril. Yet what can be done, on the present
urgent occasion, but resolutely to follow truth ? I can imagine
no plea by aid of which Paul's prophecy can be warded off from
its manifest application to that ascetic institute, of which Athana
sius was a principal patron.
The good and superstitious Cyril of Jerusalem we have already
referred to, as more moderate than many of his contemporaries :
he does not however scruple to take up the usual phrases,-|- in
connexion with this subject.
Adhering to the order of time, we pass from Palestine to the
extreme west, and find still the same elements of the religious
system. Hilary of Poitiers, in the places already referred to,J
speaks the language of the tiraes. He contends for that great
dograa of the ascetic system, the perpetual virginity,§ ita venera-
bilis ejus ostenderetur in Jesu matre, virginitas : and perplexes
himself with an allegorical exposition of Psalm cxxvii. in order
to reserve the superior honours and blessedness of celibacy.
We return from the west to the east, and mention next, Epi
phanius, bishop of Salamis in Cyprus, of whom, in connexion
with our present subject, it is enough to say that he was himself
a severe ascetic, and the founder and abbot of a monastery : —

* As for instance :— Vita Constant, lib. iv. c. 26, and 28. Hist Eccles.
lib. ii. c. 17.
t Catech. vi. toward the end, and xii. xvi. + P- 223.
§ In Mattli. com. canon i.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH. 327
no dissident, therefore, from the doctrine and practices of the
nicene church.
Basfl of Cassarea, who may be taken as a fair specimen of the
religious system which the fourth century bequeathed to the
eighth and ninth, and which system we are told to accept as ' ripe
Christianity,' was, as every one knows, the great promoter of
monkery in his times ; and in fact his influence upon after ages
has been deep and extensive. Basil * revised,' would perhaps
differ very little from the scheme of doctrine, worship, and disci
pline, which the Oxford tract divines, were they once set quite
clear of the untoward labours of the reformers, would re-establish
in England.* In this enumeration of witnesses it would be
altogether superfluous to make citations from the writings of those
who are well known to have been the most ardent promoters of
the ascetic practices. I therefore merely name, as coming next
in order of time, Gregory Nazianzen, the intimate friend of Basil
— a main pillar of that vast structure of superstition and idolatry
which we have been used to brand as popery.
Ephrem the Syrian, who may be read with comfort and
profit by any who bring apostolical Christianity with them
as an antidote, exhibits, perhaps, as well as any writer of the
class he belongs to, the utmost extent to which the blind gospel
of the nicene church may be carried, in producing the passive
virtues — patience, self-denial, mortification of the appetites,
humility, or rather submissiveness, obedience, and charity (in the
sense of almsgiving). To this list may also be added a grace for
which we have no exact modern designation — alas the poverty of
a protestant nomenclature ! What I mean ought not to be
called heavenly-mindedness, for it is the condition of a soul,
destitute of light, and warmth, and hope, and faith ; but, if a
term must be coined, we must name it — unearthly-mindedness ;
for it was the contrary ol sensuality, covetousness, and turbu
lent passion ; and yet not the genuine opponent of the sordid
principles of our nature. In naming Ephrem, I cannot but
* Those who will soon be reading the • select' treatises of this father, will
be virtually misled and imposed upon, unless they look into his entire works.
A doubt has indeed been thrown upon the Ascetica, but upon a very slender
inference.
a 2

328 EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE
caution the reader against the delusion which may be practised
upon him by ' selections.' At this moment, when the Church
is fearfully vibrating between apostolic Christianity, and the
nicene superstitions, nothing can be of any avail but an appeal
to the historical apparatus entire, whence alone true notions of
things may be derived. Selections are schooled witnesses, and
therefore worse than none.
Gregory of Nyssa, the brother of Basil, although a married
bishop, is yet an ardent admirer of celibacy. In this writer may
be found more than the germs of every aboraination of the papacy.
Let it be granted that, in extravagance of expression, he goes a
little beyond sorae of his contemporaries ; but yet is he, in no
point of superstition or fanaticism, at variance with them. His
scheme of doctrine and discipline is only nicene Christianity,
vividly expressed ; or, as one might say, the same outline of
things in bas relief Now I would gladly receive an ingenuous
reply to these following questions : —
1st. Putting aside the merely ecclesiastical controversy con
cerning the pretensions of the bishop of Rome, can any broad
distinction be established between Gregory Nyssen, and the
romanism, or popery of the tenth century ?
2d. Can any distinction of principle be made good between
this father and his contemporaries, particularly Basil, Athanasius,
and Ambrose ?
3d— and this question I would seriously address to men fear-
ino' God, Whether each article of Paul's explicit prediction of the
coming apostasy does not find its complete fulfilment in the
system which this writer's works embody ?
I can imagine several modes in which these questions might be
evaded, or, ' a case made out,' very learnedly and ingeniously,
and much to the satisfaction of afl who love to be excused the
tofls of investigation, and which should appear to dispose of the
difficulty, and of him who starts it ; but I am thoroughly per
suaded that, dealt with apart from prejudice and controversial
influences, they can be repfled to only in one manner, and in a way
fatal to the illusion which is now spreading within the protestant
church. I cannot but recommend the conscientious student to
read and ponder Gregory Nyssen, and then to ask himself.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH. 329
whither he will be tending in surrendering himself to the nicene
divines ; or — to those who have made the nicene divines their
masters. Ambrose of Milan, the best authority in support of ' church
principles,' and in recommendation of — the virtues of relics — the
advocacy of the saints — the celestial excellence of virginity — the
efScacy of fasting, and other works of penance, and of what you
please of the nicene and popish superstitions. In writing to pope
Syricius, Ambrose submissively says — quos sanctitas tua dam-
navit, scias apud nos secundum judicium tuum esse damnatos.*
Well is it for the Lord's people that they are to receive their
award from other lips ; but Ambrose might have added, ' and
whatever your holiness approves at Rome, we approve also at
Milan.' In fact, he gave all his soul, and devoted his eminent
talents to the work of upholding the church system of his times —
most zealous, when most in the wrong. I have already, and
must again cite him in the course of this argument.
The erudite Jerome stands next on our list of witnesses. It
may be permitted to Erasmus,f while indignantly comparing the
sottish and vapid monkery of his own times, with the ascetic
system of the nicene age, to assume a preference as belonging
to the more ancient institute. Let it be that there was a dif
ference in circumstance, between the two systems ; but assu
redly not in substance ; and whoever looks into this great
writer's ascetic treatises and epistles, will grant that, on all
points of the predicted apostasy, Jerome carried his notions
to the highest pitch of extravagance : but of this more pre
sently. Yet let us notice, in passing, a signal instance of that
perversion of genuine moral sentiments — a perversion fatal
to the virtue of youth, which attended the notion of the celestial
merit of virginity. A youth, religiously educated, and reli
giously disposed, overcome by temptation, falls into some ficen-
tiousness of conduct : what then are the feelings which should
attend his recovery to virtue? — sorrow surely, and shame, in
recollection of his sin. It was altogether another thing with
the ascetic Jerome, who, in his own case, deplores, not the sin of
his early fall, but his loss of caste among the terrestrial seraphs,
Epist. 42, class, i. t In thfe life of Jerome above referred to.

330 EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, AND THE
and his having forfeited those ineffable honours of which others
might make their boast ! Jerome's language, in this instance,
carries with it a volume of meaning in relation to the real quality
of nicene Christianity. I commend the passage to the reader's
particular attention, and shall cite his own words.* After pro
testing that he does not condemn matrimony, he says — Virgini-
tatem autem in coelum fero, now quia habeam, sed quod magis
mirer quod non habeo, Ingenua et verecunda confessio est ; quo
ipse careas, id in alfls praedicare. Nunqnid, quia gravi corpore
terrse haereo, avium non miror volatus, nee columbara prsedico,
quod radit iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas ? Notions
of this sophisticated sort, are of simflar tendency to those sub
stitutions of the law of honour for the rules of vfrtne, which in
fact give a license to every immorality that does not happen to
be touched by the penalties of this arbitrary code. Jerome must
take his place among the foremost promoters of the false princi
ples of the nicene church system.
Mark, the hermit, might be cited along with Macarius the
Egyptian, as affording evidence of the consolatory fact that truth
and spirituality still held a place, even among the ascetics : an
ascetic however he is, and moreover a mystic, going far toward
the oriental illusion, and its pantheism.
Differ as much as they might on other points, these great
writers are unanimous on the subject of the ascetic doctrine :
thus Rufinus, while rending his friend Jerome's reputation with
merciless asperity, is as staunch a monk as he, or as any of his
contemporaries. And so again Augustine, although he claims to be set off from
his contemporaries, on various accounts, and is in fact greatly
superior to most of them, nevertheless holds firmly to the catholic
doctrine, on this ground ; nor can a more striking, or edifying
instance be adduced, of the sovereign influence of religious fllu
sions, in perverting the strongest and the soundest minds. If any
are staggered by Augustine's authority in this instance, and are
inclined by it to think well of what otherwise they would not
hesitate to condemn, let them remember that this sarae eminent
father favours, and warmly defends, each principal article of the
* Pro. libb. adv. Jovin. Apolog. ad Pammach. toward the end.

SANCTION IT RECEIVED FROM THE NICENE CHURCH. 331
superstition of his times ; and that he has been, and may fairiy be
cited, by romanists, in support of almost every element of the
papal system.
I wifl not however dismiss Augustine without referring the
reader to a passage in which, by nice distinctions, he labours to
set the Church clear from the marks of the predicted apostasy.*
Ille enim prohibet, qui hoc malum esse dicit, non qui huic bono
aliud melius anteponit. True, the church catholic did not forbid
marriage, like certain heretics, as if it were in itself abominable-;
but it did absolutely forbid it to all who aspired to walk on the
path of what it represented as the only christian perfection : it
did absolutely (so far as it could) forbid marriage to all men in
orders : it discouraged the ordination of the married : it spoke of
a second marriage as adulfery ; and, in a word, it taught a doc
trine, and sanctioned a practice, from which nothing else could
result but that horrible prohibition of marriage, by the romish
church, which, during a long course of ages, has deluged Europe
with licentiousness and misery. Let it be temperately asked
whether the romish church has assumed any general principle, in
relation to the cefibacy of the monastic orders, or of the clergy,
which is not to be found distinctly advanced, and warmly de
fended, by Augustine himself. If not (and no one, I think, will
affirm that it did) then it is equally unjust and frivolous to make
a distinction between the papacy, and the nicene church, in respect
to this mark of apostasy.
All that has been said of Augustine, is true of his illustrious
contemporary Chrysostom. We have heard him using language,
in regard both to virginity and fasting, such as is not surpassed in
extravagance, or in pernicious tendency, by any popish writer.
No important accession to our present argument would be
secured by passing forward into the fifth century, or by adducing
the train of secondary writers who mark the course of it. Every
one knows what their tendency is, as to the points in question.
But if the reader pleases, let him look into Sulpitius Severus (the
biographer of St. Martin) or into the church historians, Socrates,
Sozomen, Theodoret; or into Palladius, Isidore, Cassian, or Cyrfl
of Alexandria, * Contra Faust, lib. xxx. c. 6.

332 EXTENT OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE.
Whether the writers above enumerated belong to the eastern, or
to the western, to the north african, or to the alexandrian churches,
they hold the same language, and seem to emulate each other in
their zeal to promote every one of those notions and practices
which, when digested into canons, decrees, or ecclesiastical usages,
make up what we mean by popery, or romanism, as the system
adopted and enforced by the papacy.
By protestants it has always heen admitted, as it has always
been felt by the romish church herself, that the monastic orders
are the strength of the system ; and it was the monks who were
the most determined opponents of the reformation. If then pro
testants still think as the reformers did, and as they themselves
have been used to do, of the papacy, as an ' apostasy,' and as a
system of cruelty, corruption, and illusion, the monkery which
has always been the darling of this church, and its main support,
must take ample share of the reprobation with which we regard
the papal system. What then is our dilemma ? This same
monkery, reprobated as a principal element of popery, traces itself
up to the nicene church, and glows in a false splendour upon the
pages of every one of the great writers of the nicene age. We
ought then, either to embrace asceticism, on the ground of this
* catholic consent,' and so to renounce the reformation ; or,
adhering to the reformation, to disown the nicene fathers. There
is no consistency in a middle course ; nor can there be coherence
in a system which would bind in the same bundle the two opposed
authorities.

333

THE OPPOSITION MADE TO THE ANCIENT
ASCETICISM.

Whether at all, or to what extent, if at all, the prevalent
ascetic doctrine and practice were opposed by any individuals or
parties within the pale of the Church, although a point of some
importance in itself, is not essential to our present argument ;
I shall however devote a page or two to the subject, for the pur
pose of excluding probable exceptions ; but must request that the
bearing of it upon our inquiry concerning the deference that is
due to christian antiquity, may not be lost sight of. The case
then stands thus. —
It has been acknowledged by the advocates of ' church prin
ciples,' that they are barely indicated, if so much, in the canonical
Scriptures ; and that they can never be satisfactorily sustained
without the aid of the nicene writers. This being admitted, we
may suppose an opponent to say, as a demur to the conclusion
toward which I am tending, ' It may be true that the writers who
have been cited did express themselves too warmly, and with too
little caution, on the subject of celibacy, and the excellence of
the ascetic life ; but there is good reason to think that, in doing
so, they outran the general feeling of the Church : in fact, indi
cations may be gathered of the existence of a contrary opinion
and feeling.'
Be it so ; and would that it had been so to a far greater extent
than we are at liberty to assume. But then, in what position do
we place the extant church writers, one and all ; and what, on
such a supposition, will be the value of their evidence in esta
blishing church principles ? If indeed these writers — that is to

334

the opposition made

say, all who have come down to modern times, or all who are
usually appealed to as authorities in support of these principles,
were in fact affected by the ascetic delusion, and if under its
influence they, so far, forgot moderation, and virtually belied, or
greatiy overstated, the general sentiment of the Church in their
times ; then, how can we venture to rely upon them as our
guides, in relation to those other church doctrines, such as the
intrinsic efficacy of the sacraments, and the high bearing of the
sacerdotal office, in relation to which the inducements were mani
fest and strong to overstep the limits of sobriety ?
If, after all, the holy catholic church of the nicene age, that is
to say, the mass of christians, was much more moderate and
sound than we should suppose, in looking into the fathers (a most
comfortable supposition truly !) then it foflows, that, in yielding
ourselves to the guidance of these writers, we make ourselves the
dupes of their personal enthusiasm and folly ; and are, to that
extent, led astray from what we are professing to admire, namely,
' catholic purity.' Most clearly, the fathers, without whose aid,
as it is confessed, church principles are not to be established, can
be safely resorted to only on the strength of the contrary suppo
sition, namely, that they themselves were in harmony with the
Church of their tiraes, and did truly represent its opinions, feelings,
and practices.
But on the other hand, if (and as in fact is too evident) the
extant church writers did speak the mind of the great mass of
christians in their times, though not absolutely of all, and if, in
the main, a true notion of the feelings and usages of the church
catholic be gathered from these remains, and if genuine church
principles are embodied in the writings of Ambrose, Athanasius,
Basfl, and their contemporaries, then, without a question, the
ascetic doctrine and practice — that is to say Monkery, with its
illusions, its frivolity, its pretensions, and its corruptions, was a
principal, and a darling element of this system ; and then more
over, if, on the authority of the nicene fathers, the modern church
is to adopt principles and practices which can in no other manner
be sustained, there can be no consistency in rejecting (merely
because we may not happen to like it) its fully-sanctioned ascetic
system. Let us repress, if we can, the abuses to which that

TO THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM. 335
system has always been open ; but the institute itself, with the
doctrines on which it rests, wants no sanction on the part of the
authority to which, in other matters, we are religiously bowing.
Take it then either way, our inference is saved. — If the ascetic
mania was in fact more generally opposed than we have imagined
it to have been, then the fathers are delusive guides, in regard to
church principles ; and they are especially to be suspected when
they are known to have been exposed to the influence of powerful
motives for running into extravagance. — But if such opposition
was in fact of small amount, and if the Church at large went all
the length of its teachers, then this church — people and leaders,
together, was the victim of a system, which we must think false
in principle, and fatal in its operation ; and such as vitiates what
ever it is mingled with. An opponent may make his choice in
this alternative.
It may be gathered from the language of Chrysostom, on several
occasions,* that objections were raised against the prevailing
practices by, probably, the laxer sort of professed christians ;
and also that more than a few, in and out of the Church, were
accustomed to make a jest of the follies, and the hypocrisy,
and the shameless abuses, which disgraced the monkish sys-
tem.-j" It cannot be imagined that in any age, or whatever may
be the influence of the promoters of fanaticism, the common
sense of mankind should be entirely overpowered, or that absolute
silence should be imposed upon either the remonstrance of the
wise, or the ribaldry of the profane. All the terrors of Rome, in
the height of her pride, did not avail to protect the monks and
the monasteries from the rebuke and contempt which they
deserved. In fact the existence of a somewhat formidable opposition, and
the prevalence of a whispered contempt, might be inferred from
that very style of extravagance in which the church writers
indulge. Men of intelligence, unless provoked and alarmed, do
' Tom. i. p. 328, 340, and the Treatise against the Impugners of the Mo
nastic life, passim. See also p. 342.
t We may easily imagine what would be said and thought by the people at
large, when the monks were seen, in open church, and during the celebration
of the ' terrible mysteries,' to be proffering gallant attentions to the ladies,
their companions. Tom. i. p, 297.

•336 THE OPPOSITION MADE
not often run so far upon a road where they are sure to be outdone
by fools. Some serious protests were in fact made, from time to
time, against the wide-spread infatuation ofthe general church ; and
we find each of its culpable superstitions, on the one side branded
with merited reprobation, and on the other passionately defended
by perverse ingenuity. But in each case the church authorities
proved themselves too strong for the dissidents, who were cursed,
borne down, banished, crushed ; and so the goodly structure of
artificial piety was preserved from injury, and safely handed down
to succeeding ages. Unhappily the protesting party, in these
several instances, and the same is true, more or less, of every pro
test against popery, down to the time of Luther, took the obvious,
but the ineffective course, of inveighing against the particular
superstitions ol the Church ; the objectors themselves, probably,
not being conscious of that fatal departure from the first principles
of Christianity whence all these errors had resulted. Luther, on
the contrary, steadily held on his way, and actually brought about
a reformation, because (divinely taught) he had felt the apostasy
of the church from the Gospel, long before he had learned to dis
approve of the prevalent superstitions ; and he announced to the
world the life-giving truth which the Church had long lost sight of,
while yet he himself submissively bowed before the papal chair.
Jovinian, Vigflantius, and others, upon whom Jerorae, Ambrose,
and Augustine trampled, do not appear to have well understood
the secret reason of the errors they denounced. We should think
so, judging merely from the failure of their endeavours to promote
reform. What their actual opinions were, is not to be ascer
tained ; for we possess no evidence better than the reports of
their angry and triumphant antagonists, to confide in whom, in
such a case, would be something worse than credulity ; for it
would involve a cruel injustice toward men who, by their very
persecutors, have been denied the opportunity of appealing to
the candour of posterity. The personal character of Jovinian,
were it known, might enable us to form a better opinion of his
doctrine ; and it would not perhaps he altogether safe to interpret
the calumnies of his enemies, as so many testimonies to his virtue
and piety. Nothing however contradicts the supposition that he
honestiy aud religiously opposed the madness of his times : at

TO THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM.

337

least he did so courageously, and he suffered the consequence ;
for having been ecclesiastically condemned at Rome, and Milan,
he was civilly banished to a desolate island, where he ended his
days. In nearly the same path followed Vigilantius, who had been
sustained, as it appears, by certain bishops. Proh nefas I exclaims
the sanctimonious Jerome, ** si tamen episcopi nominandi sunt,
qui non ordinant diaconos, nisi prius  There were therefore
sorae, and it is a consoling thought, who, notwithstanding the
asceticism of the Church at large, adhered at once to the princi
ples of virtue, and to the apostolic injunction, and who, knowing
the peculiar temptations to which the clergy were exposed (espe
cially in consequence of the access allowed them to convents)
wisely required that those whom they ordained should be married
men. It was on this very account, and precisely because these
bishops paid respect to the commandments of God, disregarding
the foolish and wicked traditions of men, that this crabbed monk
grinds his teeth at them, and would fain have stripped them of
their dignities.
It does not appear, as I have already said, that Vigilantius,
any more than Jovinian (or than later reformers, before the
sixteenth century) knew how to lay the axe to the root of the
superstitions of his times, by insisting upon those great principles
of Christianity which, when understood, exclude these follies in
a mass, as by the force of an inherent energy, repelling whatever
springs from another source. His protest therefore, although
calm, reasonable, and not unsupported, died away ; his party was
crushed, and the doctors who trampled the remonstrants under
their feet, had the satisfaction, in leaving the world, to see the
ship of the church-]- in full sail, gaily decked with all the fool's
colours and tawdry tatters which human wit could devise, making
its way in gallant bearing, by favour of wind and tide, toward
the haven which it at length reached under the pflotage of the
* Jerome's Epistles and Treatise against Jovinian and Vigilantius, as they
are not very long, will no doubt be read, or at least cursorily examined by the
reader who has access to his works. This comprehensive reference may
therefore be enough, on the present occasion. The epistle to Vigilantius,
particularly, deserves a perusal.
t Constit. Apost. lib. ii. c. 57.

338

THE OPPOSITION MADE

Gregorys, and the Innocents of Rome. Jerome may fairiy claim
the praise of having sealed the fate of Christianity, for a thousand
years, by the influence of his pernicious pen ; and especially in
crushing, as he had done, the rising tendency toward reformation.
How different might have been the history of Europe, how
different the spiritual condition and fate (if the word may be
used) of miflions of mankind, if this learned and able writer —
commanding the ear of the Church, eastern and western, had only
once given place to a modest and religious doubt, as to the sound
ness of the prevailing notions. If, instead of heaping execrable
scurrflities upon the heads of Jovinian and Vigilantius, he had
mildly considered their remonstrances, and consented to look
into the Scriptures, to see ' if these things were so,' a new era
might have opened upon the Church. Alas ! Jerome, the great
apostle and pillar of ' church principles,' seemed to be conscious
of no feelings, as a disputant, and when irritated, but those of a
Torquemada !
But although these remonstrants, and others, did not, so far as
appears, touch the spring of all superstition, they fully understood
the oneness and consistency of the manifold inventions that had
been heaped upon the Church ; and they felt that it was a living
mass, connected by fibres not to be severed without affecting the
whole. Along with many diversities of opinion, a very remarkable
agreement is to be observed, as to this point, among the remon
strants who in succession have assailed the prevailing corruptions
of the church, from Jovinian, down to Luther : and this intimate
connexion has been well understood on the other side ; and,
from Jerome, down to cardinal Cadjetan and Tetzel, all have
thoroughly known that to amputate a limb of this body of super
stition, was nothing else than to leave the whole to bleed to death.
Our modern revivers of church principles too, give indications
enough of their consciousness of this harmony of the ancient
notions and practices ; and they are therefore restoring, one
by one, all the parts and members of the nicene church
system. Occasions such as those now before us, I mean the remon
strances which Ambrose, Syricius, and Jerome, united their efforts
to crush, offer the means of applying a very satisfactory criterion

TO THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM.

339

to our own religious dispositions, individuaUy, and I beg leave to
avafl myself of it as follows : —
There are some signal scenes in history, whfle contemplating
which, every one's sympathies kindle, and pass over to the one
side or to the other : — our instinctive emotions, the momentary
products of our characteristic dispositions, wake up, and choose
their part : — we declare ourselves Greeks or Trojans, whether we
wfll or not. And there is reason in such instinctive movements.
It may indeed be very true that, when we come to look narrowly
into the personal qualities or private worth of the actors in such
critical scenes, there may appear to be a balance of merits ; or at
least all merit may not be on the one side, nor all demerit on the
other. And further, if the interests in debate are coolly and
minutely examined, a candid observer may be compelled to ac
knowledge that there is, between the antagonists, a sort of par
tition, or breaking up of truth and error ; for it is not always,
nor often, as it was when Copernicus and the Church were de
bating concerning the solar system, that the one side is absolutely
right, and the other absolutely wrong.
Nevertheless, after all such allowances have been made, we
return to the scene of action, and, without hesitation, resume our
seats on the one side, or on the other of the stage, and give our
chosen champion our hearts and prayers. Thus it is that a good
romanist looks on while the heretics, John Huss and his disciple,
are being consigned to the compassion of the civil power, to be
dealt with as they might deserve : and so again, such a one waits
to hear the incorrigible monk of Wittenberg sentenced to the
flames by Charles and his reverend assessors at Worms ; and
sighs to think that the Church was then defrauded of her revenge.
Now, let any one take in hand Jerome's noted letter to Vigi
lantius, and he wfll soon find toward which side his involuntary
sympathies are tending. And let him not be prejudiced against
' church principles' by the revolting malignity which breathes
in every paragraph of this epistie :* — let Jerome's venom on

* The few sentences quoted by Jerome from Vigilantius, contain nothing
that is offensive j and we may be pretty sure that, had there been any thing
of this kind, it would have been adduced by his irritated adversary. On the

340 THE OPPOSITION MADE
the one side, and on the other, the apparent mildness and reason
ableness which distinguish the few sentences quoted from Vigi
lantius, be put out of view, and then, looking at the mere con
troversy between the two men (the wolf and the lamb) let him
choose his part. On the one side there are church principles,
such as — the merits of holy virginity — the godly usage of pil
grimages to the tombs of the martyrs — the reverence, if not
worship, due to the relics, and the images of the saints — the in
tercessory power of the saints in heaven— the expediency of the
flambeau church vigils, and in a word, all the principal articles
of later and modern romanism. Then on the other side there is
a calm remonstrance against these practices and notions, founded
on an appeal to Scripture, and to the experience which the Church
had had of the ill tendency of all such usages.
Looking then at this controversy broadly, and without attempt
ing to mince the particulars, or to make out nice exceptions,
let every one ingenuously say — was Jerome right, or was Vigilan
tius right ? What is the verdict of our consciences ? Was it well
for the Church that Jerome triumphed ; or might it have been well
if Vigilantius had been listened to ? But before we reply, let us
look to the consequences of our decision as affecting ourselves.
If Jerorae was in the right, and Vigflantius in the wrong,
then Wicliff was wrong, and Huss was wrong, and Jerome of
contrary, his own two epistles, 59 and 60, cannot be read without the liveliest
disgust :/ — they are the vigorous expression of the worst sentiments to which
human nature is liable. Either to utter or to hear what Vigilantius had ad
vanced, Jerome assures us is 'a sacrilege.' He, better called Dormitantius
than Vigilantius, had opened his fetid mouth, fraught with >• putrid stench,
against the relics and ashes of the martyrs. He is a Samaritan and a Jew,
and a madman, disgorging a filthy surfeit. He is a useless vessel, which
should have been shivered by the iron rod of apostolic authority. A tongue
he had, fit only to be cut out. He is a maniac, a portent, and one who well
deserves with Ananias, Sapphira, and Simon Magus, to be consigned to eter
nal darkness — non est crudelitas pro Deo, sed pietas. Vigilantius is — a dog,
a monster, a servant of the devil, a blasphemer, and of course a heretic, aa
well as an ass, a fool, a sot, a glutton, a dreamer. — What ! shall we listen to
such a one, and then be compelled to condemn all the fathers — all the bishops
— all christian people, and all christian princes ! for all, says Jerome, have
authorized, and approved, and practised what Vigilantius condemns! This
was very nearly true, and it was also true that, in this instance, the quod ab
omnibus was a mass of foolish superstitions.

TQ THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM.

341

Prague was wrong, and Luther was wrong, and the english re
formers, the founders of the protestant church in this country,
were wrong; for all, in their turn, held substantially the same
language, and the last named have left on record a protest,
couched in language far more animated and severe than Vigilan
tius ventured to employ, against ihi very superstitions which he
cafled in question.*
But if in thus looking at this controversy of fourteen hundred
years, concerning certain notions and observances, on the one
side pretended to be godly and edifying, and on the other affirmed
to be foofish, and subversive of Christianity — if, in so considering
it, we decide that the english reformers, and that Luther, and
Wicliff, and Huss, and Vigilantius, were right, then after taking
this side of the argument, what position do we occupy in relation
to the nicene church ? As to any attempt to draw a line of dis
tinction somewhere between the later reformers, and the remon
strants of Jerome's time, with the view of saving the nicene
church, it would be not only frivolous and disingenuous, but un
availing ; nor can I imagine any such attempt to be made by well
informed men.
Disregarding then any such futile plea of exception, the nicene
church, with Jerome as its representative, is seen to range along
with the papacy, as the zealous promoter of superstition ; and
as the intolerant opponent of the authority of Scripture.
Let it be imagined however that some persons, diffident of the
guidance of their own judgment, and foreseeing the consequences
that must follow from a decision against Jerome, in this instance,
will hold to the belief — a belief that they will not choose narrowly
to scrutinize, that, after all, and although he might indulge a
bad temper, and go too far, he was nevertheless, in the main,
right, and should be thought of gratefully, as having upheld
godly usages and discipline, against the liberalism of his tiraes.
Be it so : let us however take care not to violate historical justice.
But now, when we open the monkish legends of the middle
ages, and find them crammed with revolting absurdities, such as
almost sicken us of human nature, and bring our best convictions
* It cannot be necessary to remind the clerical reader of the terms employed
by the authors ofthe Homilies, when speaking of these same superstitions.

A A

342 THE OPPOSITION MADE
into peril, we do not hesitate to say, — ' Whatever this ascetic
system might have been in its bright days, it had evidentiy got
so far wrong in these later times, as at once to paralyze the
understandings, and to vitiate the moral sentiraents, and to
cauterize the consciences, of those who came under its influence. '
Thus we make our escape from the humiliating scene. But
what if it shall appear that the monkery of the darkest ages does
not surpass, a whit, in folly, extravagance, and moral perversion,
that of the tiraes to which we have been used, inconsiderately, to
attribute the highest wisdora and purity ? And what if this
always-vicious system shall be found to have shed its corrupt and
stultifying influence over even the most powerful, and the most
accomplished minds ? Shall we not at length be convinced that
the entire scheme was of evfl equality, when we find a man like
Jerome to be affected, from head to foot, with the ' putrefying
sores' of this spiritual malady ?
The task of reporting Jerome's absurdities, just as they
stand, without compromising the sacred things with which he
mixes them, is indeed a difficult one ; but I must attempt it,
taking refuge under St. Bernard's axiom — ^inelius est ut scaiida-
lura oriatur, quam Veritas relinquatur.
The ' Patriarch of Monks,' who has been so often referred to
in these pages, and who was almost adored by the nicene church,
and held up, as we have seen, as a pattern of christian perfection
by Athanasius, had been, it seems, in danger at one time of
thinking too highly of his own incomparable merits. Hsec in
mentem ejus cogitatio incidit, nullum ultra se perfectum monachum
in eremo consedisse. And, for his humifiation, it was revealed to
him that the unexplored depths of the wflderness had long hidden
from the view of mortals, a solitary, surpassing himself in the
ascetic virtues, as far as he surpassed the generality of his order.
He was therefore coramanded to leave his monastery, and to go
in quest of this imraaculate pattern of sanctity. It was in his
ninetieth year that he thus set out, propping his tottering frame
upon a staff, and not knowing toward what quarter to direct
his steps. Fainting under the fervours of noon, j'et nothing
doubting of his course, what should meet his eyes but— a centaur
—a creature half man, half horse, quo viso, salutaris impressione

TO THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM. 343
sign! armat frontem (what good catholic would not have crossed
himself at such a sight!) The beast however was found to be
more obliging in temper than might have been expected, and in
reply to the saint's inquiry — ' Whereabouts does the servant of
God live ?' he courteously pointed to the desired path, and then
galloped off with the swiftness of a bird ! The learned Jerome
does not attempt to solve the weighty question, whether this cen
taur was a mere guise of the devil ; or a real and substantial son
ofthe wilderness. "Be that as it might, St. Antony held on his
way ; but he had gone only a few steps further, when lo I he
beheld, in a rocky glen, a negro-snouted urchin, whose forehead
budded horns, while his inferior parts were those of a goat ; in a
word, it was a genuine satyr ! St. Antony, scutum fidei, et lori-
cam spei, ut bonus praeliator, arripuit. Another friend however
(whether beast or devil) presents himself under this ambiguous
forni ; and one who was gifted, not merely with urbanity, and
with the faculty of speech, but with reason and truth : — mortalis
ego sura, et unus ex accolis eremi, quos vario delusa errore gen-
tilitas, faunos, satyrosque et incubos vocans colit. To exclude
the incredulity of his readers, Jerome assures them that an animal
of this very species, which had been brought alive to Alexandria,
had been sent in pickle to Antioch, where it had been examined
by the emperor. We must however cut short our story, and
bring the holy monk to the cave ofthe still holier Paul, an eremite
indeed, who, utterly, and long forgotten by man, had passed
nearly a century in this seclusion, clad only with a whisp of the
leaves of the palm tree, which also during twenty years had
supplied him with his only diet ; since the failing of which he had
received a ration of bread, daily, like Elijah, from heaven. Long
did St. Antony knock, and earnestly did he pray before he could
gain admittance. ' Qui bestias recipis,' said he, ' hominem cur
repellis ? . . . . Quod si non impetro, hie moriar ante postes tuos :
certe sepelies vel meum cadaver I' The door opens at this appeal,
and nothing could be more sweet than the greetings and the
discourse of the two anchorets. While chatting, a crow perches
on the branch of a neighbouring tree, and then lays a whole loaf
on the table ; integrum panera ante ora mirantium deposuit I
Now it seems that, for sixty years or more, this sarae almoner had
A A 2

344

THE OPPOSITION MADE

brought the hermit, dafly, half a loaf; but this day, a whole loaf!
Dominus nobis prandium misit .... mflitibus suis duplicavit
annonam ! But now who shoifld have the honour of splitting it
in two? Long and ingeniously Was this difficulty discussed,
when at length it was agreed that, each holding his part, they
should break it by their conjoined efforts ! The reader should be
told that all these edifying incidents are garnished with texts of
Scripture, which I m.ust take the liberty to omit.
Again, to cut short our instructive narrative, we must briefly
say that the hermit Paul, knowing that his own departure was at
hand, enjoined St. Antony to fulfil the functions of his undertaker,
sexton, and executor ; but first desired that he would return
whence he came, and fetch from his monastery the pallium
given him by Athanasius, and wherein he would fain be wrapped
for interment. Antony complies, retraces his weary way with
all speed, seizes the cloak, and returns breathless, fearing lest he
should be too late to discharge the last offices to his dying friend.
On his way he beholds a heavenly quire of Prophets and Apostles,
and among them the departed Paul, in snow white robes! Too
true a portent ! The hermit had already breathed his last when
St. Antony reached the cavern. After indulging his grief awhile,
he bethinks hiraself of the duties of his olHce ; but here comes
the staggering difficulty ! how shall he dig the grave, having
neither spade nor shovel? While much perplexed, and well nigh
in despair — Moriar ut dignum est : what should he see but a
pair of lions scouring the hflls, who, approaching the spot, and
coming up to the corpse, signified, by many blandishments and
by wagging their tafls, and growling deeply, their sympathy with
the saint on the sad occasion : nor was this all ; for they forthwith
most humanely set about digging a grave for the defunct ! and,
strange to say— as exact to the measure as the most expert sexton
could have done it ! unius hominis capacem locum foderunt ; and
then, having finished their tasks, and looking for their hire, they
threw hack their ears, licking St. Antony's hands and feet : —
at file animadvertit benedictionem eos a se precari .'—nor did the
saint refuse them a remuneration so well earned : — ^blessed lions !
We may leave them then, and him, to conclude the obsequies as
they can, and shall here cut short the legend. It is enough ; or need

TO THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM. 345
we adduce more of fike quality from the same great doctor's other
ascetic memoirs ? *
I do not ask whether the above savours of truth and piety and
reason, a question which would be insulting to the reader ; but
whether it be in any way ipore deserving of regard than is the
vflest legendary trash of the most besotted times of monkery ? —
From this rhodomontade, mixed up as it is with the language of
Scripture, every sound mind turns with utter disgust. It is
hard to imagine what that condition of the conscience could be,
which might allow a man such as Jerome, to sit down, and
deliberately string together these miserable inanities. That a
stupid monk, who never had had a nobler thought, should do so,
is what one may understand ; but in the case of a raan of vigorous
intellect, one is driven to the alternative, either of supposing
something like a possession, or infatuation ; or otherwise must
believe that he, and some other of his contemporaries, the makers
and venders of the like commodities, having forbidden the perusal
of the gentile classic literature to the laity, laboured to supply the
place of it with what should be entertaining, and at the same time
of a sort to stimulate the fanaticism, and to debilitate the reason
of the people. This however would not be very unlike the
' hypocrisy of liars.'
The gentile classic literature ! May Plato and Xenophon and
Cicero be mentioned in such a connexion ? It is not without an
emotion profoundly painful that one turns from the turbid, frothy,
and infectious stream of Jerome's ascetic writings, to the pellucid
waters of pagan Greece and Rome. — Reason darkened indeed;
but it is reason still, and moreover, reason struggling toward the
light ; and exempt from virulence, from hypocrisy, and from
absurdity. Such a contrast powerfully impresses the mind with
a sense of the infinite mischief that has been done to mankind by
men who, when Christianity, with its simple grandeur and its
divine purity, was fairiy lodged in their hands and committed to
their care, could do nothing but madly heap upon it, and often
for selfish purposes, every grossness and fofly which might turn
aside its influence, and expose it to contempt.
* Vita Pauli Erem.

346 THE OPPOSITION MADE TO THE ANCIENT ASCETICISM.
It may he a christian-like and kindly office to palliate the
errors, and to cloak the follies, and to give a reason for the false
notions, of the nicene divines ; but when, on the other side, one
thinks of the long centuries of woe, ignorance, persecution, and
refigious debauchery, which took their character directiy from the
perversity of these doctors, it is hard to repress emotions of the
liveliest indignation. As to Jerorae, who coined afresh, and
issued anew, all the superstitions of his age, and who sent them
forward for fourteen hundred years, one can hardly think of hira
otherwise than as an enemy of his kind. By a line of causation,
not very indirect, he bas been the author of a hundred times more
human misery (not to look into the hidden world) than was
inflicted upon the nations by a Tamerlane.*
* In what manner Ambrose and Augustine treated the opposers of the
ascetic system may be seen by referring to the following places : — Ambrose,
addressing pope Syricius (Epist. 42, class, i.) ' his lord and well-beloved
brother,' includes Jovinian in a list of condemned heretics — Manichees and
others, to whom no indulgence can be shown. These, whom the most
benign emperor had execrated, and who were indeed deserving, as he says,
* of all execration,' had been condemned, first at Rome, and then at Milan,
whence they had been driven— quasi profugos. Jovinian's opinion that there
was no difference of merit between the married and the unmarried, is termed
* a savage howling of ferocious wolves, scaring the flock.' It is curious to find
the great church authorities, contending with the most acrid zeal, for the two
doctrines of the merit of virginity, and the efficacy of fasting, as if inseparable
principles. Thus Ambrose, Epist. 53, says, certain babblers had come in,
qui dicant nullam esse abstinentia: meritum, nullum frugalitatis, nullam virgi
nitatis gratiam . . . Jovinian, it appears, had belonged to a monastery at Milan,
where he had neither seen any luxury, nor been allowed any liberty of discus
sion. Augustine, in his Retractations, mentions the motives and occasions of
his various works ; speaking of the book de bono conjugali, he says, that
the heresy of Jovinian had prevailed at Rome to such an extent, that several
nuns, of whose purity there had been no previous suspicion, had been induced
by it to fall into matrimony. But — huic monstro sancta ecclesia quse ibi est,
fidelissime et fortissime resistit. Nevertheless the poison, not having been
altogether expelled, Augustine had thought himself called upon to apply a
remedy. This remedy (with the bishop's mode of treating his adversary) is
to be found in his several treatises — de continentia — de bono conjugali — de
virginitate — de conjugiis adulterinis — de nuptiis — de bono viduitatis — de
opere monachorum — and, contra Julianum. In the book, de Haeresibus, Jovi
nian finds his place, and his alleged errors are particularly mentioned, c. 82.
Cito tamen ista hasresis oppressa et extincta est, nee usque ad deceptionem
aliquorum sacerdotum potuit pervenire.

347

MONKERY AND MIRACLE,

As every one knows that, in order to acquire a genuine
acquaintance with history, we must examine the extant materials
of the times in question, so every one knows that these contempo
rary materials are to be examined in the light of our modern
criticism. To lose ourselves in the original documents, and to be
charmed out of our wits by their antique fascinations, is to read
Homer like a school-boy, who, for the moment at least, believes, not
merely in Homer's heroes, but in his gods and goddesses. The
lecturer upon history finds himself compelled, in giving %is account
of the ten years' war, to strip off from the Iliad a prodigious quan
tity of finery, and to make sad work with poetry and crests, before
Achflles, and Ajax, and Agamemnon, are reduced to their true
dimensions, as blustering leaders of brigands and pirates.*
Now is a simflar operation to be performed upon the Iliad of
nicene asceticisra, or do we choose rather to keep a fool's paradise
entire on this sacred ground ? We have no need to go to
Gibbon's school in this instance ; and in truth the best security
against the danger of finding ourselves there, in the end, is to be
had in the prompt exercise of a vigorous good sense. Renounce
our reason, and then we must either settle down in the flowery
paths of Butler's Lives of the Saints, " or of the Spiritual Mea
dow" — the fairy land of unbounded credulity ; or else yield
ourselves to a universal scepticism ; and in fact, we should be
very likely to follow a path through the former, into the latter ;
that is to say, if we take our first lessons from Butler, to take
our last from Gibbon. * Thucydides, lib. i. c. 5.

348 Md!»KERY AND MIRACLE.
Grant it, that the task of paring romance down to history, is
an ungracious one. Nay more ; if it be religious romance that is
in question, it will be hard entirely to avoid an ill consequence,
thence accruing, incidentally, to our own religious sentiments.
The mere circumstance of sitting, for some time, so near to the
' seat of the scorner,' is dangerous ; but whose is the fault ? not
ours surely, who must remove an offence that has been placed on
the path by others. It is the legend-mongers who have done the
mischief. If good and learned men, like Alban Butler, will
employ themselves in cramming twelve closely printed volumes
with pious fables, which outrage reason, history, and religion, and
will then moor this mole of mud to our common Christianity, to
the great peril of the credulous, and to the still greater peril of
the incredulous, what is to be done ? Some will say — let it
alone — leave it to sink by its own weight; and truly nothing
better could have been done, if it had not happened that this very
mass of feculence is just now being attached to our protestant
church. ' The Lives of the Saints ! ' Who, now-a-days, thinks or cares
about the Lives of the Saints ? or who would waste an hour in
the serious endeavour to expose its fictions to contempt ? Un
happily we are not yet free to treat these romances with the
silent neglect they deserve : and why we are not, is easily shown :
— Let any one open Butler's volumes, at hazard, and without
looking to the dates of the several lives therein related, let him
select a few which appear the most ridiculously absurd, or which
are, on any account peculiarly offensive, and I will venture tp
predict that these articles, so distinguished by their extravagance
and folly, will turn out to be nicene, and not popish stories. In
fact they will be found to be translations from Athanasius, Basfl,
Palladius, Jerome, or sorae of their contemporaries. On the con
trary, any lives that may appear to he less objectionable, and, in
a sense, edifying, will be those of modern romanist saints. If then
the Lives of the Saints, as a whole, he worthy of contempt, the
principal stress of this contempt falls, not upon the church of
Rome, but upon the church of the third and fourth centuries.
But let us come to particular instances. Among the enormous
and revolting fables of this vast collection — Butler's Lives of the

MONKERY AND MIRACLE.

349

Saints, I wifl suppose the reader to fix upon two, namely the
life of Paul the hermit (above referred to) and that of St. Hilarion.
Whence then has the learned editor drawn these precious morsels?
Is it from the stupid pages of some dreaming, contemporary of
St. Dunstan ? No, it is from the vigorous and erudite tomes of
Jerome—the most gifted of the nicene divines ! The uninitiated
reader, however, is very likely to imagine that the popish editor
has garnished his materials, adding to them what might recom
mend them the more to the bad taste of his credulous and
superstitious papistical readers. The very reverse of this is the
fact. Let him see if it be not so : if Butler's version of Jerome's
lives be exarained, it will appear that, instead of rendering thera
more superstitious, and more miraculous, and more popish, he has
made them less so : that is to say, he oraits what is the most
ofi'ensive, he softens extravagant phrases, he inserts extenuations,
or plausible explanations of manifest incongruities, and altogether
offers to the modern reader, in the place of what in the original
is utterly shocking, or in the last degree puerile, what may be
read. In a word, the popish editor chastises the nicene legend-
monger ; and in collating the two — the original and the version,
a convincing proof is obtained of the fact that much more reason,
and more piety too, has belonged to the romish, than ever
belonged to the nicene church. It is not to be doubted that there
are devout romanists who, while they might bring themselves to
approve of Butier, would loathe Jerorae (if not told that this
Jerome was Saint Jerome). That any protestant should, after
examination, profess to prefer Jerome, or Cassian, or Palladius,
to Butler, I can hardly think possible, and will not helieve.
But there is yet a point of justice involved in this comparison
between the romanist and the nicene biographers, which it would
be wrong to omit to mention. The excellent Alban Butler, an
undouhting son of the church, set himself, at the distance of
twelve centuries from the times in question, to collect edifying
memoirs of the ancient ascetics f and having first taken the wise
precaution of closing the window shutters of his library, within an
inch of pitchy darkness, and having laid it down as a law, that he
is never to enter upon any inquiry which, by possibflity, might
lead him whither his church forbids him to go, he, by these

350 MONKERY AND MIRACLE.
means, saves himself (at least in particular instances) from the
flagrant guflt of putting forth as true, what he personally knew to
be false. But how was it with the original compfler of these
same stories ? Jerorae writes the lives of his contemporaries !
Jerome was no simple soul, believing every thing from sheer
guilelessness : he had trod the stage of the great world, and knew
mankind ; he had formed his taste by the study of Xenophon
and Thucydides ; he was well skilled in historical criticism ;
he was gifted with much sagacity ; and, as a literary forester, he
had that sharp scent which enabled hira to track a dead lion, if
any such thing were actuafly in the wind : his temper moreover
was of that corrosive quality which tends to the testing and the
solving of adulterated articles. Now this Jerome compiles, at
some length, the history of a certain wonder-working monk, his
contemporary, who, in search, as he declared, of seclusion and
oblivion, had traversed the principal countries of the roman world
— Egypt, Sicily, Italy, Greece, Syria ; and wherever he went, he
had wrought the most astounding miracles, emulating those of
Elijah, and of our Lord. If then these miracles were real,
thousands of persons, of all conditions, christians and pagans, were
able to attest them, in quality of eye witnesses ; and hundreds
might readily have been appealed to, if it had been thought
desirable to institute any serious inquiry on the subject.
Was then Jerome himself a believer in these miracles ? or did
he ever ask himself, while dressing them up for the entertainment
of the Church, whether they were true or false ? If he did believe
them, so as to preclude the necessity of any investigation, how
gross must have been the delusion to which he had surrendered
o his powerful and acute mind ! But did he not choose to ask
himself whether he believed them or not ; and seeing that they
tended to glorify the Church, and to recomraend monkery, and
orthodoxy, did he give them all the advantage of his great repu
tation, meanwhile half, or more than half, suspecting them to be
impious fabrications ? I wiU attempt no solution of these diffi
culties, but will only say that, should I be hardly dealt with on
account of my dealing with this nicene doctor, I must hold up his
lives of Paul and of Hflarion as my defence. To those who will
profess to attach their faith to these prodigious legends, I have

MONKERY AND MIRACLE.

351

nothing to say ; with those who think of them as they deserve,
I am safe.
Affirmations of miraculous interposition, may, if untrue, float
anywhere between delusion and fraud ; and therefore they may
involve various degrees of culpabflity, on the part of those who
promulgate them. But no such narrative can float between truth
and falsehood; for it must always be either true, or false, that the
divine power has, in any alleged instance, diverted the ordinary
course of nature. Now the nicene ascetic system was either
attested by a copious display of miraculous powers (as affirmed
by the principal contemporary writers) or it was not so accredited.
If it were, then what is protestantism, and what is the english
church, which does not embrace, nay, which has put silent con
tempt upon a divinely sanctioned, and most ancient and catholic
institution ? But if the contrary be true, then what was that
system itself, and what the moral condition of the church which
embraced and admired it, while it made the boldest pretensions —
false and blaspheraous pretensions, to the power of working
miracles — miracles in which no room was left for illusion and
easy credulity ? The reader will choose his alternative.
The question heing then — What was the moral value of the
ancient ascetic system, our first reply is — That it was what it
might be consistently with its pretensions to miraculous powers :
and it should be remembered that in the fourth century, if we put
out of view the customary dreams, visions, and various forms of
mere illusion, it was none but the monks and hermits, who claimed
to work miracles ; this credit therefore, or this stain — this glory,
or this infamy, is the prerogative of the ascetic institute.**
A SECOND reply to the question in hand, I have in part antici
pated, and shall not pursue the topic further ; merely stating the
fact that the ascetic institute was, in a moral sense, such as it was
likely to be, seeing that it had been adopted, with no material modi -
fication, from the ancient gymnosophists, and the buddhist sages.
* Of several of the ancient hermits there is reason to think better than
that they should themselves have pretended to the powers attributed to them.
The lie was that of their biographers. Thus the nonsense and knavery attri
buted by Palladius to Macarius the Egyptian, are utterly contradicted by the
spirit of his writings. It was the besotted companions and disciples of some
of these good men who patched up the legend of their 'virtues,' as soon as
they were gone.

352

MONKERY, THE RELIGION OF SOUTHERN EUROPE.

un- er-

A THIRD reply .to the inquiry concerning the moral condition
and influence of the ascetic institute, turns upon a consideration
of what has always been (at least during the last eighteen h
dred, or two thousand years) the physical and moral charact
istics of the nations bordering upon the Mediterranean. Unless
we are resolved to shut our eyes to plain matters of fact, facts of
this class must be taken into account, when we look into the
materials of the religious history of these nations. Not to do so
is to take romance for history ; and moreover, as one error
implies more, we shall really be doing the ancient church a great
injustice, at the moment when we are wishing to enhance its
credit ; for the same reasonable considerations which forbid our
being duped by its lofty professions, supply also an apology for
its follies, and a palliation for its grievous faults.
During the last two thousand years, what has been the state of
manners and morals in all the countries between the thirty-fifth
and the forty-fifth parallels of latitude, and between the Caspian
and the Atlantic ? These zephyr-breathing and garden lands of
the world have presented, throughout this course of time (or only
with partial and transient exceptions) a social condition inti
mately disordered by the want of moral tone ; and parallel with
this ill habit of the social mass, there has run on a refigion which,
while it has but faintly affected the many, or to any good pur
pose, has spent its force upon a few, and these few so removed by
artificial distinctions from their fellows, as to do littie or no good
by their example. Throughout these countries, and during this
lapse of ages, there have been the extremes in morals, but
no MEAN.

MONKERY, THE RELIGION OF SOUTHERN EUROPE.

353

The philosophy of the moral, political, and refigious history of
southern Europe, turns upon this very fact. Northward of the
forty-fifth parallel (in Europe) maybe found— a generally diffused
animal health, and a physical robustness— and a wide middle
class in society — and a breadth of opinion and feeling — and a
soberness and mild liberality of judgment, and a dislike and an
avoidance of enormities of conduct and sentiment ; none of which
important elements of national well-being can be predicated of the
south. Before the absolute moral merit of the nations, who occupy
these two geographical bands, could be respectively ascertained,
many intricate questions should be gone into ; but meantirae, the
characteristics above stated remain undisturbed. And then, if
the nineteenth century is to be compared with the third or fourth,
it will appear that the difference which marks this lapse of time,
attaches almost entirely to the north of Europe, where every
thing in that interval of time has been regenerated, or absolutely
created : while the south, amid many convulsions, has remained
substantially the same — physically, morally, and religiously.
Indeed, whenever the ancient and the modern worlds are com
pared (and by ancient, we now intend the declining period of the
roman empire) the difference discoverable is such as results
chiefly from that creation of a broad mean, in the social, pofitical,
and refigious spheres, which has come about in northern Europe,
during the last five centuries.
The tendency of genuine Christianity is always to create a
mean in society, or as we may say, to consolidate and extend the
political, social, and moral terra firma, or wide continent of com
mon interests, and ordinary sentiments. Wherever the Gospel is
to get a footing in a country, the proclamation is of this sort, —
' Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight, every
valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hiU shall be brought
low, and the crooked shall he made straight, and the rough ways
shall be made smooth.' Not indeed that Christianity is a levelling
doctrine, in the cant, modern sense of the term ; hut yet its gra
dual operation is to cafl into existence a mean, whereupon the
extremes of high and low may meet, and be reconciled. Let a
pure Christianity now take its course in Turkey, and what would

354 MONKERY, THE RELIGION OF SOUTHERN EUROPE.
be the poUtical and social consequence, after a few years, but to
blend the discordant elements of the national system ; and first
to create, and then to empower, a middle class, and a middle
doctrine, and a middle influence, which should at once elevate
the degraded, and chastise and control the proud ? In this happy
sense Christ's doctrine is indeed revolutionary.
Christianity was, in fact, just about to work this its proper
effect upon the roman worid, and was making a happy commence
ment by putting woman into her long lost place, and by bestowing
upon her, personal virtue, and reverence and influence, without
which, as there is no healthy condition of the domestic system, so
there can be no national ^-irtue, or fiberty, or elevation of cha
racter. This happy change was commencing, when the ascetic
fanaticism came in ; first, to poison the domestic system at the
core, by its hypocritical prudery, and its consequent separation
of the sexes ; and secondly, to turn off the fertifizing current of
the most powerful sentiments from the field of common life, and
to throw them aU into the waste pipe which emptied itself upon
the wflderness. We use no figure, or a figure only in the terms,
when we say that the mighty waters of christian moral influence,
which should have renovated the roman world, and have saved
the barbarism of a thousand years, was, by the ascetic institute,
shed over the horrid sands of Egypt and Arabia — there to be lost
for ever !
It was as if, where there is a rich virgin soil favoured by the
sun, one were to find the plough, and the spade, and the various
implements of husbandry, employed by a stupid race, not upon
the teeming lands, but in vainly enscalping the surface of rocks,
and in bootlessly furrowing the faithless sands of the shore ! Such,
in a word, was that perversion of the moral force of the Gospel
which resulted from the ancient asceticism. Southern Europe
was therefore left to he southern Europe stfll, for another cycle of
centuries, and monkish fanaticism with its cefibacy and its fastings,
has continued, now these fifteen hundred years, to be the grim
antithesis of a wide-spread dissoluteness of manners. In Portugal,
Spain, the south of France, Italy, Sicfly, and the islands about,
during all this lapse of tune, whfle in comparatively but few
instances temperate and virtuous husbands and wives have blessed

MONKERY, THE RELIGION OF SOUTHERN EUROPE. 355
the common walks of life, monks and nuns of ambiguous cha
racter have swarmed from religious houses. Little national
morahty has been seen in those countries ; but more than enough
of the madman's imitation of virtue and piety. Throughout these
regions, and during these ages, few families have been blessed
with purity and peace ; but miracles have been agoing on aU
hands : the green leaf and sweet fruits of piety have not covered
the fields ; but the seculars and regulars, like a perpetual visita
tion of locusts, have brooded on the waste.
In passing, fifll-fraught with english feelings, from our northern
latitudes to the south of Europe, every one feels that the degrading
superstition of the common people is not a doctrine and practice
that have happened to invade these countries, oppressing and
corrupting the social system, but rather, that it is the congenial
refigion of races distinguished by physical debility, by relaxation
of principle, by abjectness of soul, by ferocity, and by actual I
debauchery. The Gospel, even now, would indeed bring in upon
these very people the energy of moral health, and it would have
done so in the times of Diocletian ; but those who were then
intrusted with it, mistook its spirit, and in holding forth a crazed
asceticism as the only genuine virtue, they left the mass of the
people just such as they found it — debauched, ferocious, super
stitious ; and such, with transient exceptions, have they con
tinued, under the influence of the very same system, from that
time to this.
Besides many differences, affecting the mere surface of society,
and which belong to our general civifization, as distinguishing
modern from ancient southern Europe, there is one moral and
ecclesiastical point of contrast, which I would not overlook, and
it is this — The church, in the fourth century, was moving down
a declivity ; whereas at present, and long since, it has reached its
point of lowest depression, upon a dead level. Now, so long as
this decline was in progress, afl persons of fervent mind,, conscious
of the general movement, struggled mightily to arrest it. This
eager and anxious struggle, then, is that which gives vehemence
and animation to the hortatory compositions of the nicene age.
The great preachers and writers whom we have occasion so fre-
quentiy to name, stood midway, and breast-high in the torrent j

356 MONKERY, THE RELIGION OF SOUTHERN EUROPE.
and how passionately do they contend for their footing, and how
manfully do they fight the biUows !
There was therefore a resistance, not indeed to the supersti
tions, but to the immoralities of the age, and an agony, and an
animation belonging to the Church in the fourth century, which do
not belong to it (in the same countries) at present. Yet it would
he going much too far to affirm that the moral condition of the
mass of society was better then than it is now, on the same soils.
There is an abundance of evidence proving the extreme corruption
of manners in the era now in question ; nor can it be requisite,
in this place, to enlarge upon so trite a subject. It is therefore
a sheer iflusion — although it be one easfly followed, which
would assume our northern and english notions of morality — the
morality of our sober middle classes, and then, attributing any
such state of things to the social system in the fourth century, and
to the nations bordering the Mediterranean, imagine that the
ascetic virtues of those times stood high above any such level of
morals. In taking our idea of the nicene monastic fife from the
romantic descriptions given of it by its credulous admirers, we
think of it as an obefisk, pointing to the skies, the base of which
rested on firm level ground, and a ground of general virtue
and piety. It was in fact no such thing ;— the nicene asceticism
rose out of a bog, and it barely kept its apex above the wide
spread corruption : or it was like those monuments of egyptian
magnificence which just peep out of the deluge of sand that has
long smothered the glory of so many temples and palaces.
The ancient ascetic virtue, far from being lofty absolutely, was
barely so relatively; and indeed, if we are to trust some of its
best informed advocates, it had actually worked itself down a
^ood way below the general level of decency, temperance, and
continence. It was therefore very far from being, what we are
likely to imagine it to have been, when we read selected speci
mens of ascetic piety.

357

MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE. AS
IT AFFECTED THE MONKS THEMSELVES.

The evidence of history forgotten, and our better christian
notions laid aside, it is then easy for an ardent and serious mind
to follow the hermit into his wilderness, or the monk into his
cloister, with a vivid sympathy. In fact, the real difficulty with
persons of imaginative temperament is to repress that yearning
of the soul for seclusion and meditation, which impels them to
enter upon the same flowery path. There are those, and it is
more than a very few, to whom the course of self-denial is — the
continuing to live in the midst of the duties, the turmofl, and the
enjoyments of common life ; and to whom the course ol self-indul
gence would be that of dreaming existence away, in a cloister,
or on the sunny side of a mountain, far remote from the haunts
of man. He is the epicurean, who surrenders himself to the
impulse of his personal tastes, without regard to duty, or to the
welfare of others : now these tastes may be of a sensual kind, or
they may be imaginative, or they may be intellectual, or they
may be a mixture of afl, and we may call them religious ; but
surely a wonderful mistake rests with those who, while they are
giving an unbridled course to their particular inclinations as con-
templatists or intellectualists, and are allowing the world to go its
own way ; yet speak disdainfully of the glutton, or of the volup
tuous, as epicureans, and boastfully of themselves as self-
denying men ! A poor proof of self-denial, surely, to wear a
filthy hair shirt, and to wait untfl after sunset for one's break
fast, if in doing so a man pleases himself, and no one else !
No voluptuary is so uniform or so thorough-going in self-
pleasing, as the hermit, who, while he permits some charitable
s B

358 MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTIU'TE,
dupe to bring him his weekly rations of bread, makes it his glory
never to see, to speak to, or to thank his benefactor.
The capital illusions of the anchoret being allowed for, then
it is easy to believe that he may have had his virtues, of a
certain sort, and his devotion too, and his high-wrought unearth-
liness : but then no descriptions which we may meet with of the
loftiness or of the deliciousness of the anchoretic or monastic life,
ought for a moment to make us forget its inherent selfishness,
and its direct contrariety to the spirit and precepts of the Gospel.
The institute can never be proved to be abstractedly good, by
any amount of this sort of incidental recommendation ; and it is
clear that whatever amount of such recommendations we may
allow to have attached to the early ascetic life, attach much more
decisively, and with fewer drawbacks, to the institute as we find
it regulated in later times, and when it came under the care of the
romish church.
To any then who would indignantiy ask — ' What ! do you
make no account of the pure and holy lives of multitudes of the
ancient solitaries V We may reply — Yes, we make much of them,
even after we have righted the balance by considering how much
selfishness, and how much delusion, and how much absurdity,
entered into the system. But then we ought to make still more
account of what is at once more pure and holy, and far less open
to suspicion, and oftener relieved by instances of learning and
utility — I mean the monkery of modern times. As to any
practical inference, drawn from the assumed sanctity of the
¦ancient solitaries, in favour of the system, a fortiori might such an
inference be made good in favour of the romish monastic orders.
If then this haircloth epicureanism is to be restored among us, it
would be idle to think that we could do better than follow the
model of the Benedictines, or the Franciscans.*
It is however necessary to descend a littie further toward par
ticulars. With this view I will now offer some considerations,
and adduce some evidence, tending to exhibit the moral quality
* ' By all which I have ever read of the old, and have seen of the modern
monks, I take the preference to be clearly due to the last, as having a more
regular discipline, more good learning, aud less superstition among them than
the fiist.' — Middleloii.

AS IT AFFECTED THE MONKS THEMSELVES. 359
of the ascetic institute according to its Theory, and assuming it
to have been what its authors intended, and as good in fact as
sorae of its admirers represent it to have been. We must after
wards inquire what its moral influence was under its actual con
dition : and under each of these heads we must advert, on the
one hand, to the case of those who came within the enchanted
circle ; and on the other, to that of those who stood without it.
I here substitute the phrase — the ascetic institute— it being
remembered that celibacy was the prime article of that institute ;
the more coraprehensive term being employed, because it is not
practicable so to analyze the moral result of the entire, system as
to be able to assign its precise amount of influence, in the general
product, to tiie celibacy as distinguished from the abstinences, the
mortifications, the seclusions, and the other observances of the
monastic life.
The greatest possible advantage is given to the nicene asceticism
by deriving our notions of its Theory* from the writings of
Basil, inasmuch as this eminent man leaves out of his system
many of those offensive enormities, which attached to it as prac
tised in Egypt and Syria ; and at the same time he includes
many exceflences and erabellishraents, which others did not
allow. Take this scherae of life then at the best, and supposing it
exempt from all suspicion, it is, in its very idea, a moral suicide.
The suicide violates the often quoted rule — non est injussu im-
peratoris, &c. by poison, or the sword, or the rope ; the ascetic
does so as effectually by his vow. Under colour of piety, the
monastic system is a course of contumacy towards the govern
ment of God ; or a wilful and captious rejection of the part
assigned to a man, and the taking up, without leave, another
part, in compliance with a fastidious, infirm, self-indulgent, or
morose temper. It was a behaviour like that of a humoured and
* By Theory I mean the system entire — contemplative and practical, as
embodied in the Monastic Constitutions, and in Basil's ascetic treatises, and
epistles. I have elsewhere referred to the doubt which has been thrown upon
the ascetic writings of Basil. There is however no doubt that these pieces,
had in Sozomen's time, been long circulated, and had borne Basil's name.
They belong therefore to the period with which we have to do. Yet Sozomen
does but advance a surmise. Lib. iii. t. 14.
B B 2

360 MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE,
fractious child, who will be very good, just so long as you allow
hira to please himself, and to sit sullen in a corner ; but who
breaks out into passion, the moment you attempt to control him.
As the ascetic had set out with a total misapprehension of the
spirit of Christianity, and of the scheme of salvation, so did he fall
into the most extreme error in regard to the very nature of virtue,
which is not a celestial phantasy, that may be realized if a man
is allowed to shape every thing about him to his mind ; but a
terrestrial excellence, consisting in an adherence to fixed prin
ciples, under external circumstances, of whatever kind, even the
most disadvantageous. This is the turning point in the discrimi
nation between real virtue and every sort of counterfeit, that it
is — the acting uniformly, or with an invariable purpose, under
and amidst all diversities, and those the most perplexing, of
external circumstances ; or, as we technically say — ' temptations.'
' I wfll be virtuous,' says the ascetic, ' if only you wfll let me
chalk out my own path.' Whfle those who alone deserve to
be called virtuous, are confronting every species of difficulty,
opposition, and seduction, upon the rugged common of the open
world, the nice ascetic turns off upon a level gravel-walk, between
two walls, and there, forsooth, he too wifl be virtuous!
An inquiry therefore concerning the moral quality of the
ascetic scheme, according to its theory, might fairly be cut short
by the previous exception.— There can be no virtue of a genuine
sort, in a system of conduct which allows a man to evade what
ever duties he happens to mislike. Among the many fllusions
which meet us on afl sides in the nicene church, none there
fore was more gross than that involved in the customary lan
guage of the admirers of the ascetic fife, who spoke of it always
as the highest style of virtue. Just as wefl point to a marble
statue, whether it be of a Socrates, or of a Sflenus, of a Diana,
or of a Bacchus, and say, ' See what temperance is here em
bodied, what command of the passions, what unruffled fortitude,
what angelic purity, what indifference to the pleasures and honours
of the worid !' Not so, for these exceflences are the qualities of
a conscious voluntary agent, and can never he pedicated of a
block of marble. And so, it is not the ascetic, in his cell or
cloister, who may justiy be cafled temperate, pure, self-denying,

AS IT AFFECTED THE MONKS THEMSELVES. 361
heavenly-minded ; but rati.er the man who, surrounded by the
ordinary inducements to act and feel otherwise, nevertheless holds
control over ' the lusts and desires,' as wefl of ' the flesh, as of
the mind.'
And what if, after thus incurring the guilt of moral suicide, and
after running away, as he thinks, from afl temptations, the monk
is found, by his own confession, to have become the abject and
conscience-smitten slave of heart-burning impurities!* A christian
man, flving in the midst of every social relation, and calmly going
in and out among the occasions of common life, yet practically
remerabers that, ' his body is the teraple of the Holy Ghost.'
The ascetic, foflowing implicitiy the holy Basfl's instructions,
vows chastity ;— and in fact violates it/very hour of his existence.
He subscribes to Basil's rule never to speak to, to touch, or look
upon a woman (unless by the most absolute necessity :)-f- but
shall we listen— no, we would not listen to the ascetic's own piti
able description of his conflicts with ' the adversary.' If there be
any thing at all belonging to the moral nosology of human nature,
which is at once horrible and loathsome, it is that idea of the
ascetic agonies which we cannot but gather from incidental con
fessions abounding in the ascetic writings. Is then the monk's
actual condition — physical and moral, a desirable one ? and is
his the choicest style of virtue — is he the chaste and virtuous
man compared with the christian husband and father ?
It is easier to allow there to have been a certain order of piety,
than any kind of morality, among the ascetics. Let it be granted
that to condemn the debflitated stomach to churn saliva from sun
rise to sun-set, might possibly promote devotion, but assuredly,
there is nothing in such a discipline which we can call morality.
There is morality in ' speaking evil of no man,' but no morality in
not speaking at all. There is morality in not eating more than is
» Ego .... ssepe choris intereram puellarum: pallebant ora jejuniis, et
mens derideriis aestuabat . . . Jerom. ad Eustoch. 'Listen not,' says Ephrem,
' to the enemy who whispers thee, ou iwmov Traiaaadai Trjv nipu(nv oiri aov,
iuv ivfi ¦ir\ripo(pop-qa-ris ttiv emevp.iav crov, p. 161. Oxford. Expressions of
similar import abound in the ascetic writings. It is impossible to doubt
what was the real mental and physical condition of many of the ascetics,
perhaps of most.
f Const. Monas. c. 3.

3C2 MORAL QUALITY OF TIIE ASCETIC INSTITUTE,
good ; but none iu not eating at all. There is morality in acting,
speaking, and thinking, chastely, when the temptation to do other
wise is presented ; but none in avoiding those temptations which,
in fact, are the least to be feared, while those are foolishly in
curred which are the most insidious, and the most likely to take
effect. There may indeed have been pure and holy ascetics ; but
then their asceticism was no ingredient of their holinsss or purity ;
nor even a means toward it ; but on the contrary, and hy their own
confession, it was always a greater impediment than the actual
trials of common life could have offered. With the same grace,
and the same inclination towards virtue, they would have made
much more proficiency if relieved from the intolerable load of
their' rule,' than they did, as burdened by it.
A man may, in the wantonness of his presumption, impose upon
hiraself some task so difficult, and so idle, as that, while actually
making the most prodigious efforts, the visible result amounts to
nothing ; as if one were to resolve to walk always on the heel
and the toe, without allowing the sole of the foot to touch the
ground, and yet not to exhibit any awkwardness of gait, or to
fall behind others : terrible would be the torment and toil of such
an ex])loit ! and a man, using his feet naturally, might walk
twenty miles for one, with the sarae fatigue. Now the ascetics,
or athletffl, as they were called, sweating and wasting themselves
to skeletons, on the tread-wheel of their devout task-work, what
did they do but just effect a useless rotation ! So difficult, as they
confess, and so arduous, was the mere routine of the religious life,
that a monk had no chance of acquitting himself tolerably wefl,
unless he surrendered himself, body and soul, to the work. To
get through with the dafly and nightiy task of prayers, psalm-
singing, watchings, scourgings, fastings, and afl this time to keep
' th°e enemy' at bay, that is, to exclude the most abominable
imaginations, was the utmost that mortal powers might he equal
to. Not a particle of moral force, therefore, was left at large to
be employed in the reasonable duties of a useful christian course.
The cl<r.-»)^tc was a task for a Hercules, and it would have been
cruel to demand from a wretch thus worn down by excessive toils,
any thing more than his rule prescribed.
Those who, on christian aud reasonable principles, exercise

AS IT AFFECTED THE MONKS THEMSELVES. 363
themselves daily in ' godliness and virtue,' personal and relative,
find that they have enough to do, without undertaking any such
supererogatory labour as that of removing a heap of sand, in a
sieve, from one side of the monastery garden to-day, only that
they may have to return it by the fike means to its former
position to-morrow.
From the general tenor of the ascetic memoirs it appears clearly
that almost the whole moral and spiritual energies of the soul were
spent and exhausted upon the artificial part of the system of )
discipline ; and indeed it is but too evident, that, with more than j
a few, the defence of the citadel of monastic virtue, consumed the j
entire forces of the mind and body. Is such a system then a wise (¦
and eligible one, and fikely to promote raorals and real virtue on
broad ground ? Even if we could befieve that it did secure for
the raonk a higher place in heaven, the ascetic practice cost him
nearly all his virtue on earth. By virtue, we ought to mean '
ap£7-)j, in the christian sense of the word, that is to say, a quality
of actions, and of dispositions, and of habits, marked by vigour,
aniraation, and productiveness. What is, or can be, the virtue of
the inert, or of the irahecile, or of the frivolous, or of the abject?
at the best it is only a languid semblance of the shining reality,
hke the diraraed, flickering image of the sun, reflected from a |
puddle : and such, generally speaking, was the virtue of the '
monks. Let the reader, after perusing Basil's Monastic Constitutions,
and these expounded or drawn into detail in Cassian's Institutes,
imagine what would be the effect which such a system must pro
duce upon his own conduct and sentiments. Consider the principal '
elements of this system : — beside the vow of celibacy, and the
other rigorous rules and abstinences of the ascetic life, the monk '
was removed from the influence of every one of those motives
which impart energy to the human mind ; and he was at the sarae
tirae brought under the influence of every motive which tends to
break down its force, to dissipate its individual purposes, and to
reduce it to a condition of hopeless degradation, and ineptitude.
Not content with forbidding him to marry, the ascetic Lycurgus
sternly demanded of the raonk, that, as far as possible, he should
break connexion with his nearest relatives, and literally cease

OV-l MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE,
tiienceforward to know his parents, brethren, and sisters, accord
ing to the flesh! a measure this which, how severe soever, was
found to he an indispensable condition of the conventual life, and
necessary to the enforcement of obedience. Such was the first
iron-hearted lesson of this schoofing in celestial virtue ! It is
curious to contrast these atrocities of the system, with the actual
fact, not merely that the monks, though estranged from their
natural connexions were used to buzz from house to house,
meddlmg with whatever they should have let alone ; but that,
whenever the opportunity presented itself, these holy persons,
who had devoted their fives to celestial contemplations, pushed
themselves into courts, and palaces, and haUs of justice, and into
the tents of mflitary commanders, taking it upon themselves to
overrule secular affairs of every kind with a high hand.* Thus
It was that men who had renounced marriage, actually lived in
shameless concubinage ; and that those who had disowned their
parents and nearest relatives, were the common mischief makers
in families ; and that those who had proclaimed themselves the
citizens of the heavenly country, undertook the administration
of the world's affairs, and would be foremost in the control of
fleets and armies !
It was the unalterable law of the monastic institute, that a monk
should retain no personal property — scarcely his right in the filthy
rug that covered his shoulders. The pecuniary consequences of
this rule we have not now particuLwly to do with ; but it is easy
to see in what way it would operate to animate the zeal of the
chiefs, the bishops and abbots, who were the fundholders, in
" ' Voici une etrange contr.idiction de I'esprithumain. I.es ministres de la
religion, chez les premiers Remains, n'etant pas exclus des charges et de la
society civile, s'embarrassdrent peu de ses affaires. Lorsque la religion chre-
tienne fut Stabile, les ecclesiastiques qui etaient plus sfepares des affaires du
monde, s'en melSrent avec moderation : mais lorsque, dans la decadence de
I'empire, les moines furent le seul clerge, ces gens, destines par une profession
plus particuliSre 4 fuir et k craindre les affaires, embrassSrent toutes les
occasions qui purent leur y donner part ; ils ne cesserent de faire du bruit par-
tout, et d'agiter ce monde qu'ils avaient quitt^. Aucune affaire d'etat, aucune
paix, aucune gurrre, aucune treve, aucune negotiation, aucun mariage ne se
traita que par le ministere des moines ; les conseils du prince en furent
remplis, et les assemblees de la nation presque toutes composees.' — Montes
quieu, Grand, des Rom. cap. 22.

AS IT AFFECTED THE MONKS THEMSELVES. 36j
trumpeting the delights and rewards of the monastic life. Vast
wealth, by this very means, came under the control of spiritual
persons. But we now think only of the monk individuaUy,
Manual labours were indeed a part of his daily discipline ; but
then this labour was the cheerless drudgery of a slave ;— a slave
of the most abject class ; for never could he improve his condition,
by his exertions : tofl was toil, without a motive. Often it was ^
task imposed simply as a proof and trial of implicit obedience : he
was enjoined to dig, and to fill in — to carry, and to re-carry, to
bufld and to pufl down. Could the energy of virtue survive these
vflifying exercises ? Is a man found, in fact, to retain his dignity,
as the image of God, or does he reserve to himself that individu
ality of purpose which is the very ground of his accountableness,
when thus, or in any such way, he is trodden in the dust? The
intelligible motives which ordinarfly prompt men to exertion,
afford also the fulcrum of afl active virtue. Even those virtues
of which there was so much talk in the nicene church, as for
example, almsgiving, were rendered impracticable by the monastic
rules. A monk who could never be master of an obolus, how
could he practise that capital virtue, apart from which, according
to the authorized doctrine of the Church itself, even virginity
could not secure admission into heaven ?
The demands of morality are not to he acquitted in single acts ;
nor are habitual duties to be transacted wholesale. The monk
who, just as the reluctant miser makes his will, did all the charity
of his life at one stroke, in resigning his estate to the Church or
monastery, did none at all in the eye of reason or Christianity ; —
christian almsgiving is the iraparting, daily, or as occasions arise,
to the needy, something which is a man's own, and which he might
innocently retain to his proper use.
Inasmuch as genuine morality is the doing right when the
doing wrong is possible, so, just in proportion as the personal
independence and liberty of an agent is restricted, his sphere of
moral excellence is narrowed. And here let it be noticed that,
although you may irapose raany restraints upon a man's bodily
or civil liberty, whfle yet you leave him in possession of that
liberty of the soul without which he ceases to be accountable, and
apart from which he can practise no real virtue — in proportion

366 MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE,
as restraint touches the soul itself, and passes inward, from the
visible behaviour, to the very centre of the moral nature, the man
is deprived of that liberty whence virtue takes its commence
ment. Thus, a rigorous and over-anxious parent is sometimes
seen to keep so stern an eye upon, not the conduct merely, but
the inmost sentiments of a child — looking into his very soul, that
the victim of this wefl-meant cruelty, while precluded perhaps
from overt acts of disobedience, is also denied the possibility of
becoming, in any genuine sense, good and virtuous. Now, in the
monastic system, taking the theory of it from Basil, where it is to
be found in its mfldest form, not only was every part of the
monk's exterior conduct, even to the most trivial circumstance
of personal behaviour, prescribed, and compliance exacted under
severe penalties ; but an unreserved confession to the superior,
or to his deputy, was enjoined ; and not merely the confession of
definquencies in conduct, whether more or less important, but
every faithlessness or failure of the spirit, and every wandering
of the desires, was to be punctiliously exposed : and this disci
pline was to be carried up into the recesses of the soul, until the
victim of it had surrendered the last wrecks of his moral nature,
and had allowed the foot of his spiritual tyrant to trample upon
the pitiful residue of those personal affections which make a man,
a man. And this scheme of execrable despotism was glorified by
all the heads and leaders of the nicene church, as a school of
' divine philosophy,' and as a high training of heavenly virtue !
Virtue ! — the life blood of virtue, or the energy whence virtue
might have sprung, was bled out of the monk, drop by drop ;
and then the needless severity of binding him, hand and foot, and
of bandaging his eyes, and of gagging him, was exacted, and
after aU, the wretch, reduced to this syncope of the moral nature,
was exhibited as a pattern of hofiness, the ayaXjia of all excel
lence, earthly and heavenly !
Such was the nicene monkery in its theory, and upon
too many the theory took effecT:, in its utmost intensity of cruelty
and horror; or in its sad efficacy to produce the apathy and
vacuity of mind and heart of an idiot. But in fact, in the greater
proportion of instances, every kind of irregularity and the grossest
licentiousness came in to mitigate this theory in its operation,

AS IT AFFECTED THE MONKS THEMSELVES. 367
and so to relieve the cold horrors of the monastery by swamping
it with corruptions. A wretched state of any system truly is that
in which the only relief that can be looked for from the pressure
of tyranny, is what may slip in through the sewers and sluices of
profligacy ! So it was, precisely, in the nicene monasteries and
convents. To look at them in the constitutions of the cappado-
cian bishop, is to feel amazement ; but to look into them, through
the remonstrant pages of Chrysostom, and Jerome, is to be filled
with contempt.
As often as any fanatical renovator came into the management
of these religious houses, a return was made toward the theory of
the system, which taking effect upon the sincere and simple hearted,
and reducing others to outward decorum, seemed to work wonders.
Such a reform, just lasting out the life-tirae of its mover, quickly
gave place to the ordinary state of things ; leaving the institute
to what may he well cafled its natural condition of mingled
fanatical and puerile absurdity, of idiot-like inertness, and of
shameless profligacy.
He must be a bold advocate who should undertake to show
that such has not been the ordinary condition of the monkish in
stitute, from age to age. Or if there are times in its history
which might claim an exemption, certainly the period with
which we have now to do was not such a time : — it was not, if we
are to receive the report of the best qualified contemporary wit
nesses : and especially if we may interpret, on ordinary principles,
the incidental allusions, which these witnesses have let fall, to
the state of things around them.
And why should we not deal in this rational manner with the
materials in our hands ? On what grounds do they claim to be
handled with a credulous reverence ? The canonical writings do
not ask for any such indulgence ; why then should the nicene ?
But to peruse them thus, is to convince oneself that the nicene
monkery was altogether less deserving of respect than that of
almost any other age. It would indeed be easy to 'get up ' a
representation which should seem to contradict this averment.
Single homilies and treatises may be picked out of the mass,
which would charm the uninitiated. But let the same method
be appHed to a later period, and we must acknowledge it to be

368 MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE,
fallacious. Suppose, for example, we take the De Imitatione
Christi, and assume that the occupants of cloisters, generally, in
the author's time were such as he himself was. — Let us first
look into the caustic writings of the author of the Stultitias
Laus, who assuredly will prove a safer guide to the historical
inquirer. There was indeed a Thomas a Kempis in the fifteenth century,
and there were many kindred spirits dispersed among the monastic
orders at the same tirae. There was a Macarius in the fourth
century; and 'a seven thousand,' unknown to the world, but
reserved by sovereign grace in an age of wfld fanaticism, and
wide spread profiigacy — religious, and irreligious. Religious
profligacy ! — I mean the hardened licentiousness of men and
women who, while making the loftiest pretensions, were living in
the practice of the foulest vices ; or to say the least and the best
that can be said, were so living just within the pale of ostensible
virtue, as to show that their heart was always wandering beyond
it. There wifl be false members attached to the purest commu
nities ; but the plain import of Chrysostom's representations
compels us to believe that, among the professors of asceticisra in
his times, the pure were the excepted few, while the shameless
practices against which he inveighs characterized the conduct of
the many. ' I do not speak of all,'* says the indignant, yet
cautious preacher. What does this mean, but that he 'did speak
of most, when he charged the monks and nuns with the most
flagitious indecencies.
' To such a pass have things come, now-a-days, that a chris
tian man or woman had better be married than profess virginity.'
Ah how much better, could but the nicene church have under
stood so simple a truth ! Not understanding it, thousands, and
tens of thousands of souls were driven on, till they had reached
a condition more frightful than any other which an accountable
being can occupy. The profligacy of the sensual and giddy herd
/ of mankind has no such appalling aggravation attaching to it as
that which attends the course of those whose intemperance has
the blackness of hypocrisy, whose excesses are a sacrilege, who
go into the temple of God with the language of devotion, every
'( * Chrysos. tom. i, p. 306.
\

AS IT AFFECTED THE MONKS THEMSELVES. 369
syflable of which, coming from such lips, is a blasphemy ; and \
who retire from the church to chambers of wantonness, clad in a
garb which should scorch them. Multitudes, in an eariy season
of religious fervour, were enticed into religious houses, where
every better purpose was speedfly overthrown by the most dan
gerous seductions, and where, deprived of the invigorating influ
ence of common motives, and strenuous employments, and
breathing the sweltering atraosphere of pseudo-spiritual excite
ments, they met with facilities they had not dreamed of, for grati
fying the worst propensities.
Enthusiasts err on no point more grievously, than in the
supposition that the many, among whom they may excite a
momentary sympathetic extravagance, wfll continue to be as
absurd as themselves, when left to the gravitation of their proper
natures. Unhappfly, the broad net which the ascetic enthusiasts
cast over the waters of the Church, entangled multitudes who were
susceptible of just so much of the crazy influence as to prevent
their speedy return to the common world; but by no means of so
much as might have enabled thera to leave behind thera its vices.
¦ — Mad enough to hold to their profession of celestial virtue, and
yet sober enough to avafl themselves coolly of every opportunity
to belie it.
It is but the surface of a subject, such as the one now before
us, that can, with any propriety, be touched in a publication
which may fall into the hands of the young. Those who have
read certain of the ascetic writers will grant that a due regard to
the feelings of the general reader forbids my making such a use
of my materials as would be the most conclusive. I cannot sup
pose that an ingenuous opponent would take advantage of the
peculiar difficulty which attaches to the subject ; or that, presum
ing upon the impracticabflity of fully opening the wound of the
monastic system, he would scout the meagre evidence which I
have actually adduced. A cheap triumph of this sort would
be a perilous one- I will dismiss the subject then with one
remark —
Although debauched manners will not consist with genuine
holiness of heart, they will very well consist with a highly-wrought
sentimental sanctimoniousness ; — for there is no real contrariety

370 MORAL QUALITY OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE.
between gross voluptuousness, and refined voluptuousness. Now
this general fact being admitted, as it will be by afl who know
what human nature is, I request the reader, in the first place, to
turn to the statements already made, pp. 169 — 172, concerning
the imaginative sensitiveness, and the prurient pudicity with
which Basfl laboured to affect the female mind. Let us distinctiy
conceive of the moral and intellectual condition of young women
fufly surrendering themselves to this kind of influence, which led
them to people their dressing-rooms with invisible admirers.
Then let us turn, either to Basil's own intimations concerning the
shameless profligacy that was often going on in the monastic
houses ; or still better, to Chrysostom's very explicit and
astounding statements of the manners of the nuns in his time.
How stands the case then ? Basfl had fomented a dangerous
sentimentality which could have no other effect than that which
we find actuafly to have resulted from, it, namely — the loss of the
last remains of feminine delicacy, and a grossness of conduct
such as many of the unfortunates whom society has expelled,
would blush to imitate — and in fact, would not imitate, even in
the last stages of their degradation.
Yet such is the reach of inconsistency, when once religion and
morals are unhinged, that these same women — these virgins!
could issue from their quarters, and frequent church, and approach
the ' tremendous altar,' and, as we are assured, could, with
unblushing face, and while others blushed for them, admit there
and at the very moment when the ' terrible mysteries,' were cele
brating, the attentions of their monkish paramours !
Whatever may be the licentiousness prevafling in modern
catholic countries, I believe that the decorum of public worship is
rarely violated ; and on the contrary, that an imposing solemnity,
and deep abstraction, characterize, generally, the behaviour of
those who attend mass. The scenes which Chrysostom speaks
of as of ordinary occurrence at Antioch, and at Constantinople,
would not, I think, be tolerated now in any church in Europe.

371

THE NECESSARY OPERATION OF AN ASCETIC IN
STITUTE UPON THE MASS OF CHRISTIANS.

Wherever a system exists which is favourable to such a
course, persons of fervent and moody religious temper will, not
withstanding the reraonstrances of reason, and christian principles,
and the reluctances of ordinary motives, betake themselves to
the ascetic life ; which, in truth, has many charms for the
inert and feeble minded. And such persons wfll say- — ' We have
counted the cost ; we know what we are doing ; and we think
ourselves free to obey what we feel to be a holy impulse.' Let
it be so ; yet there is one part of this ' cost,' which such persons
seldom or never take any account of, namely — the cost to the
community, which, as an inevitable consequence, attaches to the
establishment, in a country, of the ascetic institute ; I mean
the cost to public morals. This serious consequence, although
seldom adverted to, invariably attends the prevalence of such a
system. A few words will be enough for explaining this con
nexion of cause and effect.
The motives of Christianity are found to take effect in various
degrees of intensity, upon any number of individuals, sorae
adraitting them to the full, while others seem scarcely se-nsible of
their power. Yet stifl afl— and especially those who occupy an
intermediate ground, feel themselves to be liable abstractedly, to
the entire force of these motives ; and any one of these persons,
even the lowest on the scale of religious feeling, may, at any
time, admit their fullest energy, and may move onward to a
higher position, without obstruction. So it i^ill be if the natural
order of things has not been disturbed : and in such a state of

372 NECESSARY OPERATION OF AN ASCETIC INSTITUTE
things the fervour and the attainments of the few, intermingled
with the many, operate beneficiafly upon all.
But now, if, in such a community, any artificial line of demar
cation is drawn around the few who are presumed to have made
great attainments ; and furthermore, if whatever is the most affect
ing in the christian system be assigned to these few, as their
prerogative, then the many are at once mulct of their shares in
what had before been common property, and so long as they
entertain no hope or intention of forcing their way within the
narrow circle of privilege, they actually sustain a privation of
almost the whole of that influence which before had, in greater or
less degrees, operated upon them for their benefit. The more
this artificial distinction between the few and the many is abrupt,
arbitrary, and difficult to be passed over, the more complete will
be the consequent subtraction of spiritual warmth and light from
the outer space.
Let nothing more be done in any society of christians, than to
make a rule that whoever professes eminent seriousness should
wear a hood, or a tassel to his cap ; and at the same time let such
a doctrine as this, be constantly inculcated — That the virtue and
piety of the ' unhooded,' or the 'untasseled' commonalty, is
always of an inferior quality ; and let the custom prevail of never
quoting the choicest passages of Scripture except as applicable to
the liveried aristocracy — the silent but inevitable consequence
of such a system, upon the minds of the many, must be the almost
total withdrawment of all efficacious motives, and a general sub
sidence of moral feeling, such as (if the few really justify their
high profession) leaves a vast interval between thera and the many.
In fact, there will soon be no middle and hopeful class ; but only
an alternative of rare sanctity — if it be sanctity indeed, and a wide
waste of lifeless forraality.
Such, in fact, from the first, has been the condition of every
community in which the monastic system has prevailed ; nor is it
easy to follow the history of this institution, uniform as it is in its
characteristics, without being impressed with the belief that th
Satanic craft has had to do with the contrivance of the ascetic
institute. Christianity, wherever it actually took effect, produced
a moral revolution so absolute and so amazing, as to show that.

UPON THE MASS OF CHRISTIANS. 373
if left unobstructed to pursue its course, every thing evil must
give way before it. A familiar converse with pagan antiquity (or,
instead, a few years' residence in the heart of brahminical India)
may enable any one to estimate the vastness of the moral change
which the Gospel was hastening to bring about. The early apolo
gists appeal triumphantly, and with the confidence of truth, to
that renovation of virtue which was then in progress. The
kingdom of the Wicked was visibly shaken, and new counsels
must be followed, and new measures tried. The first endeavour
of the adversary was — to crush the rising energy, by calumnies
and tortures ; but these methods of violence only added force to
it. What then remained to be attempted ? — The arch-Ahitho-
phel, not soon baffled, presently took a more wily, and a more
effectual course. — ' If we cannot fight with this new power, upon
the open field, — we may wall it in.' In other words, the
monastic scheme was suggested, and set agoing : the enemy
found ready agents, within the Church, and a proclamation was
made, on all sides, to this effect — That all who aspired to per
fection, after the model of the new and divine philosophy of
Christ, should throw up their interests in this world's affairs, and
shut themselves up in houses, dedicated to sanctity and prayer !
This device, notwithstanding the violence it did to human nature,
took effect, to an extent that could not have appeared probable.
The wise and learned, as well as the simple, caught at the bait ; and
scarcely a voice of dissent was heard. In all parts of Christendom
the regenerative force of Christianity was forthwith cloistered;
and although the endeavour to exterminate the Gospel had every
where fafled, the scheme which entombed it, everywhere prospered.
This view of the authorship of the ancient monastic system, as
affecting the moral condition of the social mass, I must profess
to entertain defiberately, and do most seriously believe it to
have been Satan's especial contrivance for hemming in the Gospel,
as to its diffusive moral influence. Not for a moment forgetting
how much piety and beneficence has, at tiraes, been incar
cerated within monastic walls, nor forgetting the many benefits
which have incidentally resulted from these estabfishraents, during
ages of barbarism and violence ; nevertheless, if the question be
put concerning the monastic institute. Whence was it ? I cannot
c c

374 NECESSARY OPERATION OF AN ASCETIC INSTITUTE
for a moment hesitate to say — ' from beneath.' That specious
scheme which the doctors and preachers of the nicene age agreed
to admire and extend, was nothing else, as I firmly believe, but
the devil's device for retaining his hold of the mass of mankind,
notwithstanding the presence of the Truth which he had found it
impossible to expel from the world by open force.
If facts were adduced, iUustrative ofthe actual condition ofthe
(so called) christian nations, in the fourth, fifth, and sixth cen
turies, twenty causes might easily he named rather than the
influence of the monastic institute, to which the general disso
luteness of manners might be attributed. Let us however consider
(not to look further) what must have been the effect of the
practice of setting the ascetic seal upon every text of the Bible,
which has any peculiar force of meaning. It would not easily be
befieved to what an extent this pernicious practice prevafled.
One is indeed amazed at the perverse ingenuity which was em
ployed in carrying on this work of exegetical monopoly. Not
content with assigning to the use of holy hermits, monks, and
nuns, all the cream of Scripture — its promises especially, and with
giving a twisted application to every general precept, the ascetic
interpreters — I mean all the principal nicene writers- — took up
even those preceptive portions ofthe New Testament which most
clearly belong to christians in comraon, and set them off, tor this
bye use. It is thus that the rapacious never rest so long as any
thing meets their eye which has not been appropriated.
Let any number of intelligent persons, not initiated in patristic
ingenuity, read the second, third, and fourth verses of the seventh
chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians, and I will venture
to say that not one in a hundred of them would ever surmise any
thing else than that the Apostle is there intending to convey certain
advices to the married. No such thing, says a high authority ;
and this superficial interpretation we should regard as a specimen
only of our protestant tampering with the mysteries of Scripture.
That which Paul here addresses apparently to the married, is
really said, as Chrysostom assures us, in terrorem, and for the
purpose of deterring christians, male and female, from raatrimony !
Marry ! — who would bring himself or herself, under so wretched a
bondage ? Why ! — a married man hath, as the Apostie says, no

UPON THE MASS OF CHRISTIANS. 3<5
longer any power over his own body !— nor hath a married woman
any power over her own body, but has become the slave of
another !— alas for those who marry ! and how wise are they who
rather dedicate their bodies to Him whose service is perfect
freedom ! The passage may, indeed, says our expositor, at first
sight, seem to have a lower and a lenient meaning ; but whoever
considers it more attentively, wfll perceive that the Apostie's real
intention is of a kind more worthy of himself, and of his argu
ment I*
Against a method of interpretation such as this, no principles
of truth can stand ; and in the use of it, any enormity may
readily be substantiated. I would engage to adduce a hundred
simflar instances of crooked exposition. The effect was to cut
off the waters of the sanctuary, in their destined course to bless
the Church and the world : the healing streams, turned by a deep i
cross-cut into the monastery, either stagnated in that turbid pool,
or sunk away through bottomless quicksands. Thus it was that
the Gospel so faintly affected the european morals as that the
mahometan deluge came, where it came, as a cleansing inundation.
If Mahomet, plagiarist as he was, had hut included in his scheme
the Jewish notions and usages relating to woman, and had his
religion embraced the purifying element of domestic virtue, it
must, so far as we can calculate upon the operation of natural
causes, have triumphed over the debased Christianity of the
seventh century, which, as a system of religion, had become a
frivolous idolatry, and which, as a moral system, or code of
manners, had driven all natural sentiments from off their founda
tions. The degrading influence of the mahometan polygamy,
and of its doctrine of a voluptuous paradise, just served to balance
the monkish enormities of christendora, so as to leave with the
latter enough of advantage to enable it to hold its ground when
borne upon by its rival.
To exclude women from the domestic and social circle, is the
sarae thing as to expel all virtue thence. A truism such as this,
one would not have ventured to repeat, now-a-days, did it not
appear that there are those who are wishing to make a new expe
riment, with the view of hitching christian morals up to a higher
* Chrysos. tom. i. pp. 351 — 351.
c c2

376

NECESSARY OPERATION OF AN ASCETIC INSTITUTE

level, by again separating the sexes. This separation, if not the
end immediately aimed at, yet follows as an inevitable conse
quence from the institute of celibacy ;— it is a measure of discre
tion, quickly found to be indispensable, when once the oriental
doctrine of the sanctity of virginity has come to be preached
among young people, and when once a quire of virgins, male and
female, has been set off from the community. If these unfledged
' seraphs' are not to be actually incarcerated, after the romish
fashion — which incarceration is, in truth, nothing but mercy and
wisdom ; then it will be found, notwithstanding the lofty style
which the senior promoters ofthe scheme may think fit to use, an
impracticable thing to allow of their freely conversing either with
each other, or with their former associates, in promiscuous society.
The nicene church tried this method, and the consequence was —
just what any man in his senses would have predicted — the pre
valence of abuses ineffably revolting.
A middle course must then be followed : that is to say, if the
temper of the times forbids the immuring of the ¦ professed,' it
must be silentiy understood that they are to be seen in society
only as spectres, or only as a spectacle in ' procession ;' or only
as the mute personages of a church pomp ; or be it, as angels of
mercy, flitting hither and thither, commendably indeed, among
the wretched. But what has become of the once happy circles
whence these victims have been snatched 1 Not only will the
domestic and general circle have lost their brightest ornaments
— their ' first born' of virtue, purity, and piety — that is to say,
the very individuals who, by elevation of sentiment, and by a
high tone of feeling, were the salt of the mass ; but those who
are left behind, thus orphaned, as we may say, are henceforward
conderaned to look upon themselves, and upon one another, as a
degraded class, or as the reprobates of purity ; nor can they feel,
speak, or act, otherwise than under the moral disadvantage of
being robbed of the finer feelings of self-respect, and of mutual
respect. What remains for them is to seek indemnifications ; and
these are to be sought, and may always be found, near at hand, in
licentious or perilous freedoms of behaviour.
The christian father of a numerous and well trained family,
finds (many such may soon find to their amazement) that his

UPON THE MASS OF CHRISTIANS.

377

' Angeflca,' or his ' Priscilla,' or his ' Agnes,' having tistened to
the whispers and sighs of some apostie of church principles
(whether stern and deraure, or blythe and seraphic) has actually
dedicated herself,* in a word, has ' professed ;' and if she has not
taken an irreversible vow, has so pledged her conscience and
honour, as that to draw back would be infamy. — Let it be so ;
the victira has bled ; but can we befieve that the ' Marthas,' and
the ' Annes,' and the ' Elizabeths,' of this despoiled family con
tinue to occupy the same moral level that they did before ? —
Nay, they have been cruelly robbed, and without their fault,
of the bloom and beauty, the grace and transparency, of their
feminine honour. — Thenceforward they are to think themselves
somewhat less than chaste and pure ; for it is their seraphic
sister only, who, as they are taught, merits to be called so in
any proper sense : but, for a woman to be brought to think of
herself, and for her to know that she is thought of by others, as
having, in any way, stepped down from the high place of womanly
reverence which she once occupied, is in fact for her to be thrust
down |to a level where delicacy does not breathe, at ease. The
Marthas, and the Annes, and the Elizabeths of this family, whose
common notions have stood in the way of their promotion, and
who number theraselves among such as may marry, find that the
new code of morals which has got admittance among them has
drawn a broad fine through the once united band, and that, on the
one side of it stands chastity, and virginity, and angelic purity ;
and on the other side, where themselves are ranged, there is mar
riage, not forbidden, but just tolerated ; and a littie lower down,
according to the nicene scale, concubinage ; and lower stfll, the
several grosser forms of licentiousness ; and these fair victims are
then offered the alternative, either of professing with their sister,
or — of standing associated with the impure. — Horrid mischief this!
The practical meaning of religious celibacy, as an institute, is
— the degradation of womanf — her expulsion from general society
* To take this step against the will and advice of parents, or without their
knowledge, was an additional merit, with the nicene doctors.
t I say nothing of the consequences of the celibate, as affecting the male
sex— directly and indirectly. Those who know something of monkish history
will know why this branch of the subject must be passed in silence.

378 NECESSARY OPERATION OF AN ASCETIC INSTITUTE.
— the lowering of manners and sentiments among young persons,
universally — the setting married life off from the circle of the
highest and best motives, and a general licentiousness diffused
through the community. These consequences follow — they ever
have followed, and it is easy to see how and why they must
follow, from the celibate, even supposing the best, namely, that
the ' professed ' generally justify their high pretensions. But
what happens when, as has in fact always been the case, mo
nasteries and convents are known by every body to be sinks of
pollution — the sewers of the open world, into which every thing
descends that should shun the light ! Shall we dare to imagine
the effect that would be produced upon our english manners
supposing the celibate to be restored — under any imaginable
modiflcations — and supposing that, after the first few years of
fresh enthusiasm, it became, in frequent and notorious instances,
just what we flnd it to have been in the nicene age, as described
by Chrysostom ! A dozen of Chrysostom's monasteries and
convents, dispersed through the country, would breathe pestilence
enough to reduce England, quickly, to the level of Spain and
Italy ; and meantime every thinking man in the land would have
become, an infidel.
' Yes but,' say the promoters of church principles, ' we shall
know how to obviate these extreme abuses : we shafl go to work
on a better-considered plan, and shall he provided against certain
foreseen inconveniences.' True — provision may he made against
the shameless licentiousness of the nicene monkery ;— things may
be better managed than they were then, and they have been ; and
it has been found possible to screw the systera up much tighter
than was at first attempted. But then this was done by the
means which the church of Rome employs. The romish monastic
economy — none of its rigours excepted, is the only condition
under which the celibate can be endured : and this is what we
must come to. The learned and zealous persons who are now
recommending celibacy and asceticism, well know that their pre
sent endeavours, public and private, can have no other end ; and
that they theraselves do not recofl from such an issue, has become
manifest.

379

THE INDIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE MONASTIC
INSTITUTE UPON THE POSITION OF THE
CLERGY.

No reader of ecclesiastical literature can need much to be said
in proof of the assertion that the ascetic doctrine, and the institu
tions thence resulting, powerfully affected the temper, conduct,
and official position of the clergy, in the nicene age, as well as in
later periods. In truth, it might be broadly affirmed, that monkery
without and monkery within the hierarchical enclosure, comprise
the sum and substance of church history, through many centuries.
What it may he requisite to advance on this subject, presents
itself under these two general heads, namely — the indirect influ
ence of the extra-clerical monastic establishments upon the posi
tion and character of the clergy ; — and the direct effect of the
usage of celibacy upon the clergy themselves, and upon their
relations with the laity. We take, then, the first of these topics,
which embraces the following affirmations — That the ascetic
orders — the virgins, monks, anchorets, constituted what may be
called an ecclesiastical substratum, serving to give breadth, sup
port, and altitude, to the ecclesiastical structure — That these
orders were a class to be maintained, and therefore swelled the
amount of funds administered by the clergy — That they were also
a class largely contributing to those funds— and. That they were
a class to be governed, and to be made use of, as aids and instru
ments in governing the laity.
A calm inquirer concerning the origin of episcopacy, is liable
at first to be not a little discouraged (if his predilections are in
favour of that institution) hy the clear indications meeting

380 INDIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE MONASTIC INSTITUTE
him on every side, of the strenuous endeavours of the ancient
church to create for itself, and to consolidate, a complex hierarchi
cal scheme, which, from an ample base, should tower to a proud
height. Very manifest is it that the Pontifex — the sovereign
bishop was to be seated at the apex of a lofty pyramid : hence
the long list of church functionaries, and dependents, all, to the
last and the lowest, personally interested in the support of the
ecclesiastical edifice ; and all looking up to the throne, as the
fountain of honour and emolument. The facts, looked at in this
light, give rise to a prejuJice against episcopacy ; and the most
impartial mind may easily conceive a disgust which would lead
to a too hasty conclusion, a conclusion not sustained (as I humbly
believe) by the evidence, when it comes to be more strictly
analyzed. Nevertheless, while we exempt the primitive episcopacy from
the prejudice incidentally resulting from the facts adverted to, it
is most evident that, at a very early time, great anxiety was
manifested, and great industry used, tending to bring about what
we find existing in a settled form in the nicene age, naraely — a
complicated, and broadly-bottomed hierarchical structure, which,
whfle it furnished dignities, occupation, maintenance, and emolu
ments, to a large proportion of the christian body, gave a decisive
preponderance, ordinarily, to the clergy, as balanced against the
laity. Particular circumstances allowed for, it would naturally
happen that all who had a common interest with the clergy, would
be found to stand on their side, and would sustain thera in any
instance of contention with the people : — the people were in fact
outvoted ; and having been robbed of their proper representatives,
and their due influence, by the insidious absorption into the
clerical body of those who should have acted as their tribunes,
and retaining no control whatever over the funds of the Church,
they were either dealt with at pleasure by the sacerdotal college,
or, as is usual in despotic governments, they expressed their wfll,
and inspired some necessary fear, only on signal occasions, and
in the irregular and dangerous mode of tumultuary proceedings,
and of open violence — the natural remedies against usurpations
of whatever kind.
The stabflity of a hierarchy (or of any monarchical system) in

UPON THE POSITION OF THE CLERGY. 381
its relations towards the people, and the power of the single chief
over the various members of the hierarchy itself (or aristocracy)
afike demand, not merely a numerous and diversified body of
functionaries, regulariy subordinated, from the highest to the
lowest ; but also, one or more collateral bodies, which, while con
stituting a portion of the whole, shall yet have a real indepen
dence, in respect of afl but the highest authorities. This appears
to be the secret of a monarchical constitution, civil, or refigious ;
nor has any monarchy actuaUy stood long, which has not so rested
a portion of its weight upon side buttresses. Now, whfle the
several ranks of the clergy, and the inferior church officers, down
to the porters, and the sweepers of the aisles, constituted the
bishop's ordinary state, he, and the few who worked the machine
of government under his immediate control, felt a want, which
was at length, and gradually, supplied. From how slender and
unsightly a collection of materials, was that prodigious mass
prepared which has in fact proved the real prop of the Church,
through the tempests of many centuries ! A pitiable company of
desolate old women, was, if we may say so, the rubble ofthe mole,
which has propped the papacy from age to age.
In the ancient world, so perflous were many employments
which now are comparatively safe, so dangerous were navigation
and land travelling, so murderous was war, so reckless were all
governments of human life and welfare, so prodigal of blood were
the public amusements, so horrid the usages of slavery, and
withal, so wanting was' antiquity in the medical and surgical care
of the lower classes, that there is reason to believe the average
mortality of the male sex as compared with the other, vastly
exceeded its proportion in modern times. And whereas, even
now, widows are always many more than widowers ; in ancient
tiraes, the number of women whose husbands had been snatched
from them by violent and accidental deaths, was so great as that
these ' destitutes ' constituted a class so considerable as to attract
peculiar regard. Heathenism might indeed take little account of
its widows and orphans ; but the Gospel instantly brought them
forward, as the especial objects of the regard of the Church,
The first, or one of the first duties of a primitive christian society,
was to take care of its widows ; and as the tendency of all things

382 INDIRECT INFLUENCE OF TIIE MONASTIC INSTITUTE
connected with a social economy, is for what was at first inci
dental and fiable to the guidance of occasions, to settie down into
the fixed form of a regulated constitution, it was not long before
the widows of the Church, numerous as they were, came to make
a standing class, or permanent order, situated, as we may say,
on one side of the hierarchical structure. In what way this class,
with others similar, affected the bishop's power, as patron and
fundholder, we shall presently see. Apart from this financial
bearing of the widow-band, the appendage of a company of help
less women, might seem to add fittle that was enviable to episcopal
grandeur ;— -but with it, the consequences were important. Give
to any one nothing better than an irresponsible oversight of the
poor, with power to levy for their maintenance, and you have
made him a considerable personage in the state.
But the widow-band served, very early, as the ground for a
more important and sightly structure ; — as bundles of rushes,
and sear sticks are used to be laid upon a bog to sustain better
materials. Next came, and at a very early date, as we have
already seen, the illustrious company of dedicated virgins — a
body collateral to the hierarchy, and independent, at once, of the
people, and of the inferior clergy, and yet (generally) subject to
the bishop, through the means of the most influential among the
presbyters. The regards of the people toward the widows, we
cannot suppose to have been of a kind to involve much reverence ;
but their regards — the regards they were constantly taught to
entertain toward the virgins, carried sentiments of awe and
deference ; and this credit they could lend, when it was needed,
to him who, on particular occasions, might wish to borrow it.
Thus was the hierarchical structure, even in times of suffering
and depression, acquiring, not merely altitude, but a great breadth
of base.
A little later, as it seems, the order of male virgins, or monks
and eremites, encrusted itself about the Church ; nor was it long
before this body swelled to such a magnitude, and acquired so
portentous an influence with the mass of the people, as to give it
rather too much of independent consequence. Stifl, however, in
the main, the monasteries, thickly sprinkled as they were over
the surface of christian countries, constituted so many forts and

UPON THE POSITION OF THE CLERGY.

383

citadels of ecclesiastical power, under the command of the highest
authorities, and altogether independent of the lower clergy and of
the people. On several recorded occasions these sombre garrisons
swarmed out, in thousands, to the terror of their opponents, and
to the effective aid of their patrons. Can we then be amazed at
the zeal of the church authorities, in promoting, as they did, the
ascetic doctrine ? are we at a loss in accounting for the fact, at
first so strange, that men of the highest inteUigence, men of
learning and knowledge of the world, should so have vilified
themselves as they did, by trumpeting monkish exploits, and by
repeating with all gravity the most insufferable nonsense, tend
ing to glorify the ascetic life in the eyes of a besotted populace ?
Nothing is more easily understood than this course of things.
We should do the rulers of the nicene church a great injustice if
we were to think them so simple as not to have understood what
they were about, while assiduously employed in heaping up
the materials, and in pouring in the cement, which, at length,
rendered the ascetic institute the immovable buttress of church
power. And yet we must not impute to them too much foresight
in this instance ; for it is not often given to men to sit down,
deliberately to devise those schemes of power which are to be
ripened in a long series of years. But when once a course of
ambition has been opened before a body of men in power, then
there are always found minds quick to discern and prompt in
avafling' theraselves of whatever presents itself as fit to promote
their designs. The chiefs of the Church did not, in the first
instance, plan the ascetic institute, as the most proper means for
establishing a vast system of spiritual despotism ; but — asceti
cism offering itself to them just when every extrinsic aid was
needed, it was eagerly seized upon, and industriously turned to
the best account. If there were any planning in this instance,
we must look beyond the circle of human agency for the designing
party. Still more caution is needed when we come to advance general
statements concerning the influence of mercenary motives, with
men professing to he actuated by the loftier principles of religion.
What we need in such cases, is not merely candour, but a wise
recollection of that confused condition of mind which so often

384 INDIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE MONASTIC INSTITUTE
belongs to men of ordinary quality, who, while they think they
intend only what is holy and honest, are tacitiy governed by
very inferior considerations. It is but few men who are in the
habit of severely questioning themselves as to their real motives :
and public men do so, perhaps, less often than others. Men
may be pursuing a course, such as might have been dictated by
the lust of wealth, without in fact being mercenary knaves ; for
there were in their view other and better motives, on which they
kept their eye fixed, while their hands were busy in sweeping
gold and silver, like usurers, into their bags.
Now, with these considerations before us, we need call no ill
names, while we look to the financial bearing ofthe ascetic insti
tute, upon the ancient church system ; and especially upon the
position of the ruling clergy.
The Church then, and it was its glory, had under its wing
a very numerous body of pensioners ; — that is to say, the poor,
generally, and the many who had been reduced to want in tiraes
of persecution — the widows, as a distinct class, and the virgins
also as a class ; and all were to be provided for, in one mode or
another ; and the people, recognising the duty of making this
provision, and knowing to how serious an extent the bishop was
constantly responsible, could not leave him slenderly furnished
with the necessary means. The church chest, whence also the
clergy themselves drew their incomes, must be a deep one ; and
in fact it often enclosed enormous amounts in money, plate,
jewels and costly apparel. The bishop's patronage therefore,
and his power and consequence as steward of ample revenues, and
as the guardian, often, of entire fortunes, came to be, at an early
time, very great ; and it is easy to see that this power and
patronage were directly enhanced by every addition made to the
permanent pensionary establishment. Cyprian then, was quite
right in an economic sense (though perhaps he did not distinctly
mean as much) when he said that the glory of Mother Church
bore proportion to the numbers included in the quire of virgins.
There is no mystery in all this : nothing is involved but the
most ordinary connexion of cause and effect ; and yet so obvious
a bearing of the celibate institution upon the power and influence
of the clergy has been very little regarded.

UPON THE POSITION OF TIIE CLERGY. 385
But then the church virgins were not merely a class to be
maintained ; for they were, or some of them, large "contributors
to the church chest, This fact, too, has been much less regarded
than it deserves. Woman has a noble, as wefl as a warm heart,
and when once she has admitted the influence of powerful and
elevating motives, she gives after a princely sort — yea ' all her
living ;' whether it be ' two mites,' or lands and houses and
thousands of gold and sflver. Many noble ladies were among
the earliest converts ; and the Gospel continued to draw such into
the Church ; and these, as if they had been conscious of the bless
ings which the sex at large should at length owe to Christianity,
' brought an offering,' like that of the eastern mages, to lay at
their Saviour's feet. Are we then invidiously and coldly blaming
this liberality ? God forbid : whether always controlled by dis
cretion, or not, it afforded a signal instance of the quality and
power of Christ's doctrine.
In the earliest tiraes, and while large suras were required for
redeeming and maintaining sufferers for conscience' sake, these
ample donations, or sequestrations, found a proper employment ;
and perhaps did not greatly exceed the real wants of the Church ;
but when, and at the same moment, the season of tranquillity
had come, and the monastic system had assumed a regular form —
when the ascetic enthusiasm being at its height, wealthy converts
were taught to think that the noblest of all modes of employing
the mammon of unrighteousness was to build and endow religious
houses, what could happen but that the stewards and administrators
of church funds, and generally all who drew their incomes from
the common chest, should be exposed to a terrible temptation to
make a trade of the holiest things ? Much need not be said on
so obvious a point. Whether the monasteries and convents
which, chiefly in this very mode, sprung up so thickly over all
the christian surface, in the fourth and fifth centuries, were
financially independent of the neighbouring churches, or were
placed under the bishop's immediate control, the general result
would be the same. Vast wealth was continually flowing over,
from the world to the Church. The religious body was every
day gaining upon the secular body. The Church had made
excavations, deep and wide, here and there, and everywhere ;

386 INDIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE MONASTIC INSTITUTE
and into these pits there was a constant drainage ; and every
commotion of the social system threw into them a new flood,
charged with precious matters.
While therefore the Church presented to the eye of the people
a broad front of eleemosynary demand — its poor, its widows, its
confessors, its virgins, its monks, and the clergy themselves, and
all to be supported by the people, it was in fact silently hecoraing
the steward, under various conditions, of many entire private
fortunes. But could such things happen without producing an
effect upon the religious sentiments and manners of the men
most nearly concerned ? Can we believe it ? or can we believe
that the singular animation which marks the style of the nicene
orators, when they are lauding the monastic life, received no
heightening from the unconfessed influence of inferior motives? —
Inferior and unworthy motives seem endowed with a sort of tact
and sense of propriety, impefling them to skulk into the dark
corners of men's minds, where, without making any noise, they
may, with a soft finger, press the springs of action, or ease the
moral machinery, just at the moment when such interpositions
seem needed.
There can be no need to impugn the integrity of men whom,
nevertheless, it were absurd not to think of as influenced by
motives which it would be an insult loudly to attribute to them.
In connexion with our immediate subject nothing more is requi
site than to bear in mind the simple fact, that the ascetic institute
did, as well in its earlier as in its later form, that is to say, as
well in the middle of the third century, as at the end of the
fourth, and onwards, very materially and very dangerously affect
the pecuniary position of the clergy ; and that, at length, it
became the principal means of so enriching the Church as to
make her the mistress of the world's affairs. It is then a delu
sion to cite seraphic hymns and glowing orations, concerning
the ' angelic life,' and to forget the more homely import of the
system. But again : the ascetic institute, or, to speak of it in the con
crete, the companies of nronks, nuns, and eremites, were bodies to
be governed, and engines to be worked. The clergy, and especi
ally the more eloquent members of the body, commended the

UPON THE POSITION OF THE CLERGY.

387

ascetic life in the hearing of the people, who were taught to look
upon those who professed it, as superhuman beings : in return,
these unearthly personages gave their weight, as required, to tiie
clergy, and actually moved on in phalanx when peculiariy
needed : the ascetics constituted a corps de reserve, which the
Church might summon to her aid in critical moments. Under
ordinary circumstances, as is easy to understand, these recluses,
drawn as they were from the bosoms of famflies, and trained to
sflence toward the worid, and to unlimited disclosures toward
their spiritual guides, were the fittest instruments of that sort of
clandestine management, by means of which the clergy may
exercise a terrible despotism over private life. No family that
had a daughter or a sister in the quire of virgins, could be exempt
from anxieties. AU this is wefl understood in catholic countries;
but then in the nicene age, the license that prevafled among the
ascetics left a much wider scope for this sort of dumb tyranny :
the nuns not being actually incarcerated, might worm themselves
through all the crevices of society, and at the same time, as they
habitu aUy ' confessed' to the clergy, and received instructions
from them, they might be employed to effect any nefarious
purpose. But what shall we say of that influence upon the morals and
manners of the clergy — an unmarried clergy, which resulted from
the access allowed them to convents ? The less that is said on
such a theme the better ; yet it is indispensable to place it, in
its outfine at least, before the reader. If the worst enemy of the
Church — if its infernal enemy, were supposed to have had the
opportunity to devise a plan most certain to corrupt it, what
better could he have done, than, first to stir deeply the sensi
bilities of human nature ; then to impose celibacy on both sexes ;
then to screen both from the eye of the world ; and then to allow
the one free access to the other, under pretext of spiritual super
intendence ! Need any thing more be said ? Are we to think
such a constitution of things to have been the contrivance of infi
nite wisdom and goodness ? Grant that paganism has established
what was as had ; hut certainly, it has sanctioned nothing worse.
Under a luxurious cfimate, in countries where inveterate licentious
ness had brought all sentiments and habits down to the lowest

388 DIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE CELIBATE
level, young women at the earliest age were snatched frora their
homes — the only places then where modesty stfll took refuge ;
they were congregated in dim seclusions, where they received
visits from unmarried men, to whom, moreover, and in hours of
tremulous excitement, they were to expose the inraost secrets of
their hearts ! This is that scheme which we are to admire, and
to emulate, and to set agoing afresh among ourselves !

THE DIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE CELIBATE
UPON THE CLERGY.
We have only to follow the inevitable course of things, a very
little way, and it will become evident that what has actuafly
happened could not but have happened, and must always, unless
under the most extraordinary circumstances, happen, wherever
the principle of the ascetic life is embraced. — The doctrine that
celibacy is a higher and a holier state than matrimony,* and that
it is 'a more excellent way,' and that virginity, as the fathers
constantly express it, places a man near to God, is, let us suppose,
broached in a christian community, and is put forward, whether
modestly or fanatically, so as to enchain ardent minds. Such
instantly profess this angelic excellence : — the people, not taught
better, admire and applaud the specious instance of fervour and
self-devotion ; they gaze with awe and affection upon the ' holy'
youth, or virgin ; and this awe is just so much respect withdrawn
from those, however excellent they may be, who fall short of so
high a standard. But can there be any element of sanctity which
is not eminently to be desired in those who administer holy
things ? The people will feel this congruity, and the ardent and
ambitious among the clergy will keenly feel it too ; and although
other means of popularity should be wanting, this at least is at
* Letter to the Bishop of Oxford, pp. 208, 213.

UPON THE CLERGY. 389
hand: — the weak and enthusiastic, as weU as the haughty and
aspiring, wifl snatch at the distinction, and there will soon be a
band of ' holy ' priests and deacons, who, by the aid of the very
qualities which have impelled them to walk on so arduous a path,
wifl draw towards themselves the warmest feelings of the devout
portion of the community. When things have proceeded thus far,
many, who had been insensible to primary motives, wfll yield to
such as are secondary; and they also will 'profess.
Thus the band of the 'chaste' wifl gradually have swoUen to
such a magnitude as to disturb the equilibrium of feeling through
out the Church : a new mode of speaking will have come in,
adapted to this altered state of things ; — ' marriage is lawful, no
doubt ; to say otherwise were heretical ; but yet [how angelic is
chastity — and how fit is it, that those who wear spotless white
at the altar, should also be inwardly and personally white I
Whenever it is possible, let us receive the holy sacrament, from
holy hands.' When once this comes to be said or felt, by the
devout, the fate of the Church is sealed. Married priests rest
thenceforward under an obloquy ; — they are not indeed driven
from the altar ; but they gladly give place there to those who can
lift an unblushing front to heaven. More and more go over to
the privileged corapany, and, while inderanifying themselves as
they may, and all hut a few will indemnify themselves, will yet
claim, in public, the honours of continence, and join in decrying,
as sensual, the married priest. When it comes to he understood
that it is marriage and not profligacy that is condemned, none but
the few who retain some sense of virtue and piety will subject
themselves to contempt for the mere sake of being able to call the
woman they live with — wife. At length it is felt to be a measure,
at once of discretion and of mercy, not to say necessity, to forbid
universaUy, what has become the occasion of scandal and of
invidious distinction : the last step therefore is taken, and holy
celibacy, joining hands with detestable vices, celebrates its triumph.
Fanaticism proclaims a high day, and blows her seven trumpets
of—lust, hypocrisy, cruelty, blasphemy, infidelity, madness, and
misery ; and the Church thenceforward sits enthroned upon the
overthrown decencies of domestic life, and is encircled by an
unmarried priesthood, the ministers and patterns of all evil.

890 DIRECT INFLUENCE OF TIIE CELIBATE
The social system then putrefies to the core, and the poison of its
corruption sheds death on every side. In various degrees of
aggravation, such have always, and in all countries, been the
consequences of clerical celibacy ; and clerical celibacy is the
inevitable consequence of the doctrine that the virgin state is
more holy than the married.
Whether we speak of these things problematically, as what mws<
happen, or historically, as what^as alwayshappened, is indifferent
to our argument : the connexion of the effect with its cause is of
the most intimate kind ; nor can any exceptions be produced that
should affect our conclusion. So long as religious celibacy rests
upon the plain ground of utflity, it will keep within very narrow
bounds, and the practice may be exempt from peril ; but the
moment it is propounded as an object of spiritual ambition, or as
a lofty distinction, many motives, and some of them of a very
impure kind, wfll come into play, impelling multitudes to snatch
this glory, who have sadly mistaken their personal call. Only
one course of events can then follow — namely — ^the prevalence of
frightful abuses. If religious celibacy be a glory and a beauty,
in itself, the clergy must not leave this advantage to the laity.
This were as if the brightest military courage — the freshest laurels
of war, neglected by the officers in an army, were left to be the
distinction of the privates. Then, if some of the clergy arrogate
this professional virtue, all must at length pretend to it. The
doctrine of Tertullian and of Cyprian is the alpha in a series, to
which Hildebrand subjoined the omega ; and the modern favourers
of antiquity are setting agoing again, that, which, should it
proceed, can have no other end.
A small portion of men only (moments of excitement excepted)
will adhere virtuously to a vow of continence : to expect any
thing else is ridiculously absurd. But even if the proportion
were large, as it possibly might become, for a time, and under
unusual circumstances of religious animation, or of proselyting
zeal, it remains to inquire what the effects of celibacy are upon
the dispositions of the clergy — even supposing the best that can
be imagined. This is a trite subject. The ministers of refigion
are, unavoidably, so far set off from the influence of ordinary
motives, as to involve some peril to their humility, their candour,

UPON THE CLERGY.

391

and their good sense ; but to sever thera from the social mass
violently, by cefibacy, is to aggravate tenfold all the fll ten
dencies of their position, and to render thera morose, selfish,
arrogant, prurient, trivial, fanatical, and perversely ambitious ; in
a word — to induce habits and dispositions the most pernicious in
their bearing upon private life, and dangerous in the highest
degree to the state. The history of Europe has abundantiy
established these general principles, which few now dispute.
The Lord knows what human nature is ; and he has otherwise
determined for his ministers, than that they should want the
salutary and softening influences of domestic life ; aud here we
come to a decisive instance in which the' explicit law of God,
being violently and without shame contradicted, and set aside, hy
the decisions of the Church, a choice must be made between the
two authorities. On this particular ground, as I humbly venture
to predict, the Oxford Tract church principles wfll either win a
signal triumph — a triumph fatal to Christianity, and to England ;
or — they will meet their merited fate, and be remembered only
with pity. Feeling, as they must, how critical this question is,
the promoters of nicene Christianity will hardly do otherwise
than evade a premature trial of their strength in respect to it.
At the present moment, for them to say all they mean, and
clearly to propound all they wish to see effected, would instantly
bring hundreds of their disciples to their senses. Not indeed
that these divines intend the remoter consequences of the course
tiiey are pursuing ; but they intend that which must infallibly
induce those consequences.
It is peculiarly desirable that this momentous dissonance be
tween church principles, and New Testament authority, should
be calmly regarded. — Virginity is, says the Church, a holy con
dition, and a link of connexion between the human and the
divine nature- Our Lord has consecrated it ; and its high
jjatroness is the Ever- Virgin-Mother, the Blessed Mary. Catholic
antiquity gives its suffrage in favour of this doctrine, with uncom
mon animation and unaniraity ; and how pleasing, nay glorious,
is the notion, and how enviable the privilege and the honour of
those who walk on earth as angels, and who, although in the
body, have renounced its humiliations ! But then, if things be
dd2

292 DIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE CELIBATE
SO, it would be cruel to exclude the clergy— the very ministers of
heaven, from this arena of celestial merit. No canons could
effect any such exclusion. All the most lofty-minded of the
clergy must seize this distinction, and the very persons whom
the Church would wish to see in the seat of authority, wfll, as a
matter of course, be — unmarried men. If sacerdotal dignity
were always conferred by the rule of professional merit, bishops
(under such a state of things as we are now supposing) would be
chosen almost always from the band of virgin presbyters.
Here then we directly confront a clear, positive, and reiterated
divine enactment. This should be looked to. The present advo
cates of church principles assume it as one of their principles that
things which are only once, or incidentally and very slightly
alluded to by the inspired writers, may nevertheless be absolutely
binding upon the Church. Let us then take this ground, and we
must admit that, notwithstanding any general inference to the
contrary, if nothing more had been said in all the New Testament
concerning the marriage of sacerdotal persons, than what is
dropped (and 'near not to have been dropped') by Paul, when
he asks, ' what, may we not lead about a sister, a wife ? ' &c.
that even in that case, the liberty of clerical matrimony would
have been secured. This cannot be denied hy those who profess
the principle above mentioned.
But now so it is, that no circumstance or condition ofthe eccle
siastical constitution estabhshed by the Apostles has been more
explicitly or more formally specified than this, of the domestic
qualifications of church officers, supreme and subordinate. The
apostolic rule would nearly justify the maxim — No husband, no
bishop. If episcopacy itself had been as clearly enjoined as is
the marriage of bishops and deacons, there would probably never
have been a question on the subject. Timothy and Titus are
authoritatively addressed on subjects specially clerical, and they
are formally instructed how they are to behave themselves in ' the
house of God ;' and, particularly, they are told what sort of men
they ought to elevate to the most responsible stations. No doubt
then we shall hear the Apostie say — that Apostie whom we have
heard recommending celibacy — ' although bishops and deacons
are not to be prohibited from marrying, yet, whenever it can bo

UPON THE CLERGY. 393
done, it is well to give a preference to those who have professed
virginity; for, besides that no man who warreth entangleth
himself with the things of this life, celibacy is a holier and higher
condition.' Does not the inspired text run thus ? Strange that
it should not! Ought we not to call the reading in question,
when we find so flagrant a contradiction of primitive doctrine and
practice — a bishop to be a husband ! — a bishop to be one who
has children about him !— the deacons too — and their wives ; —
and again — a bishop blameless, and yet a husband ; a bishop a
pattern of piety, and yet surrounded with children !
Not one word is. there in these clerical epistles, of ' the merit of
virginity,' not a hint that celibacy is at least a ' seemly thing' in
those who minister at the altar ! The very contrary is what we
find there. A bishop's, and a deacon's qualifications for office are
directly connected with their behaviour as married men, and as
fathers. So pointed is this assumed connexion that we might
alraost consider the Apostle's rule as araounting to a tacit exclu
sion of the unmarried frora the sacerdotal office. If a man
who does not ' rule well' his family, is thereby proved to be
unfit to assume the government of the Church ; by implication
then, those are to be judged unfit, or at least they are unproved
as fit, who have no families to govern. — The heartless, or ab
stracted and visionary coelebs— make him a bishop ! The very
last thing he is fit for : how should such a one he a father to the
Church ?
And in these sarae epistles, wherein the married state is for-
mafly specified and demanded as a qualification for church office,
the very illusions under the influence of which the Church ran
counter to the apostolic decision, are plainly predicted, and
solemnly condemned. Not one of the superstitions or abuses of
popery has been so clearly foreseen, and proscribed, as is that
clerical celibacy which the ancient church, almost instantiy after
the death of the apostles, favoured, aud at length firmly esta
blished. On this point, iraraensely important as it is, the authority of
Scripture, and that of the fathers, are directiy at issue ; — the one
authority explicitly enjoining the very thing which the other dis
courages, condemns, and at length absolutely forbids. There is

394 DIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE CELIBATE
no middle ground to be taken here : there is no room to evade
the practical question ; for it touches the main pfllar of the eccle
siastical edifice. Either it is good that a bishop should he a
husband and a father ; or it is not good. The nicene church, as
well in theory as in practice, decides that it is not good ; nor
could it, consistently with its principles, come to any other deci
sion. — In a word, the first principle of nicene Christianity is found
to be subversive, as well in theory as in practice, of apostolical
Christianity. The two systems diverge frora their starting points,
and get wider asunder at every step of their course.
A principle so simple as that it may he propounded in seven
words, and which, as so propounded, seems to contradict no other,
may appear to be a very unfit object of serious reprehension.
But let us only follow it out, in its practical interpretation, and
we may soon come to think otherwise of its importance. We are
told that — ' The preference of celibacy, as the higher state, is scrip
tural, and as being such, is primitive.' We utterly deny any such
assertion ; but if it were granted, this at least would be certain,
that this ' preferable and higher state' was not, in the apostolic
age, to be desired or sought after by those who were to be ' en-
samples to the flock :' on the contrary, such were to set an
example of virtue and wisdom, as husbands, and as fathers.
Bishops and deacons were to relinquish this ' sanctity,' together
with the celestial distinctions belonging to it ; and they were to
walk on a lower path — a path where they were liable to be looked
down upon by the celestial band. But can we think that any such
element of insubordination was intended by Paul to be dropped
into the ecclesiastical constitution ? The ancient church could
not suppose it, and, in adopting as it did the seraphic doctrine, it
felt that the reverence of the people toward the clergy could not
be secured, if these were excluded frora the honours attaching to
the ' higher and holier ' state. But grant them leave to profess
virginity, and then the doctrine itself comes out in the form of a
direct violation of the apostolic injunction. If bishops and dea
cons are allowed to choose ' the more exceUent way' — and how
cruel were it not to grant them this indulgence ! — then bishops
and deacons will not ordinarily be married men. In other words,
whoever is the most devoted, the most fervent, the most self-

UPON THE CLERGY.

395

denying, and therefore, so far, the most fit for office, will be one
who is not what Paul declares a bishop and deacon ought to be —
a married man, and a father.
Say what we please about the enforcement of celibacy, this open
contrariety between Scripture, and an ascetic church, must always
present itself long before the enforcement could be thought of as
practicable or desirable. Only let it now be attempted, without
any preparation of pubfic opinion, to enforce celibacy upon the
engfish clergy. As easily lift the halls and coUeges of Oxford
from their basements, and found them on the clouds. But if first
the ' primitive' doctrine could be brought into favour with the
clergy and the laity, and if it were so far to prevail as that many
of the clergy had come to profess the ' higher state,' and that
married men were seldom or never ordained, and that a shade
of discredit, or more, rested upon the married clergy, then an
ecclesiastical ordinance, enjoining upon all, what most actually
practised, and what the people considered as becoming, might be
nothing more than a measure of prudence. What, in such a case,
could be more absurdly unjust, than to throw all the blame upon
the last act of the Church, whfle the doctrine and the practices
which had led to this last act, were applauded. At the worst,
this enforcement could be considered only as a stretch of power,
outrunning a little the demands of public feeling.
But now, let the explicit authority of the Apostle, speaking as
in the name of the Lord, be left untouched ; and let it be held,
not merely as allowable, but as proper and desirable — -we might
say, indispensable, that bishops and deacons should be husbands
and fathers (or should have been such) ; let the people he taught to
look to their pastors as examples of married purity, and of
paternal authority and love ; — let the happy home of a christian
minister be regarded as his best sermon ; — let true holiness take
the place of a prurient, hollow sanctimoniousness ; and then it
will be found utterly impracticable to make any thing of the
• primitive doctrine' of virginity — the bubble will burst as often
as it is blown. In a community in which the ministers of religion
are married men, and are honoured as such, and in which, as
a consequence, domestic virtue reaches its highest mark — woman
blessing man, as wife and mother — there, and in such a commu-

396 INFLUENCE OF THE CELIBATE UPON THE CLERGY.
nity, no efforts will avail to enrol companies of seraphs ; on the
contrary, a well merited odium will cover the busy promoters of
any such pernicious folly. Morals and domestic felicity will be
saved, and the bosom of the social system will be kept free from
the worst of all plagues- — a virgin priesthood — in other words, bands
of {men, we must not call them) wrought up to a silent frenzy, and
leagued against the purity and peace of every home near them.
If there be any one practical injunction of the New Testament
infinitely momentous, as affecting the welfare of society, it is this
one, which makes marriage a first qualification for office in the
Church. Let us look to it then that we adhere to the authority
of Scripture, and resolutely oppose the insidious advances of those
' church principles,' and of that nicene Christianity, which, by the
sure operation of the doctrine concerning celibacy, cut at the
roots of the morals and doraestic happiness of the community
that admits them.

397

THE CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE
WITH RITUAL NOTIONS AND PRACTICES.

Seven years ago, if undertaking to treat of the progress of
opinions in the Church from the apostolic age to the period of the
councfl of Nice, one should not have felt a moment's hesitation
in roundly affirming the fact of the connexion which we are now
to speak of ; for what may he cafled the natural history of the
sacramental superstition, appears too obvious to require formal
proof. It has however become necessary to advance with more
caution upon the ground which, till of late, might well enough
have been surveyed at a glance.
There is, I believe, no controversy concerning the historical
fact, that practices had been established, and that notions were
prevalent, relating to the ritual parts of Christianity, in the fourth
century, of which we can discover no trace, in the apostolic
age. No one pretends to affirm that Chrysostom, Ambrose, and
Augustine, speak of baptism and the eucharist, precisely as Paul,
and Peter, and John, had spoken of them. A difference then in
this respect had arisen in the course of three hundred years ; but
this difference, say the modern advocates of church principles,
was nothing more than the ripening, or natural expansion of
certain rudiments, which the Apostles had mingled, sflently yet
designedly, with the christian institute. Discerning, or thinking
that we discern these rudiments, even in the apostolic writings,
we do well, it is said, to derive our own notions and practices
from the mature, rather than from the crude era of their history.
If what was done and taught by the nicene divines, in regard to
the sacraments, was nothing more than what had been foreseen

398 CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE
and intended by the Aposties, our part is to consult the nicene,
rather than the apostolic writings, on such points.
But let it be asked, under whose auspices had this gradual
expansion of ritual notions and practices been effected ? This
question is surely a pertinent one ; and the answer it must receive
brings us at once to the alleged connexion between the ascetic
institute (especially the clerical and monastic celibacy) and the
sacramental doctrine and practice of the nicene age.
This doctrine and this practice were nothing else than what
men, so placed as were the clergy of the ancient church, would
inevitably move toward, and adopt. That an unmarried clergy,
professing and admiring the wildest extravagances of the oriental
asceticism, should have adhered, century after century, to the
modesty, simplicity, and unobtrusive seriousness of the apostolic
sacramental doctrine, would have been a miracle far more astound
ing than any of those to which the Church, even in St. Dunstan's
time, pretended. Every principle of human nature forbids such an
incongruity, nor is an example of the sort presented by history : —
it could not have been — it is not to be believed — it was not the
fact. The nicene sacramental doctrine was just such as might
beseem, and accord with, the ascetic feeling and condition of the
clerical body. A conclusion so manifestly true might be left un
argued, with dispassionate persons. But we will foflow the subject
into some of its elements.
The nicene sacramental doctrine and practice, had then a
general connexion with the prevafling asceticism, and they had
some special points of connexion also, which must be briefly
stated. Sobriety of judgment, and a tone of moderation and quietness,
which belong to some men — a very few, by endowment of nature,
can belong to a body of men, take them where you please, only
as the consequence of circumstances, favouring the growth of
such qualities of the mind and temper : and if the circumstances
of a body of men are of a kind to generate the very opposite
qualities, it is not the influence of the few who may be of sound
temperament, that will avail to contravene the operation of in
ducements and excitements, tending to inflame the heart, and
pervert the reason.

WITH RITUAL NOTION'S AND PRACTICES.

399

The apostolic injunction, that church officers should be married
men, was more than a mere license, permitting what it might have
been difficult to prevent ; for it had a positive reason : and it was
not simply a provision against the grievous abuses that attend
clerical celibacy, but a security for the moderation, and mental
sanity of those who were to be the leaders of opinion in the
Church, On the one side, let us imagine, there is a body of
men whose affections have been warmed and softened, and whose
moral and religious nations have been corrected by a varied
experience of, and an actual concernment with, the ordinary
interests of life. On the other side there is a body that has been,
by some violent excitement, thrown out ofthe common path, and
whose sympathies have no natural objects ; who have not been
happy as other men, who have not shed tears as others ; who,
while chafing under a sense of privation and inferiority, have also
arrogantiy challenged for themselves peculiar honours ; — men
who, by being compelled, until it has become a habit, to look at
their own condition under vehement excitements, as from a
forced position, have learned to look at every thing else in the
same unnatural manner. Now to which of these bodies shall we
refer any moral, political, or theological controversy ? Even if a
loftier style be found among the latter, wfll not soundness and
sobriety of judgment be the prerogatives of the former ? wfll not
excess — extravagance, severity, and practical absurdity, he the
characteristics of the opinions of the latter ? This we assume
as unquestionable. Every man in his senses would make his
appeal, in a cause of whatever kind, to the former, not to the
latter. On this very ground it has been deterrained, by express divine
authority, that the rulers of the Church, if not all who may exer
cise their gifts in its service, shall be married men. But, from a
very early time, and more and more so every year, onward to the
nicene age, the clergy were striving to reverse this rule ; and, in
the fourth century, the temper and habits of the clerical body
were entirely governed by the ascetic doctrine ; and the majority
were actually unmarried men,
At^nce then, and on every admitted principle of reason, as well
as of scriptural authority, we must appeal from the judgment of

400 CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE
these unmarried ascetics — these unhumanized sophists, whose
imaginations were habitually inflamed, whose animal system
was deranged, whose notions were like themselves, harsh, acrid,
malign, and who could neither think nor speak, but in hyperbole.
From such men we will learn nothing — or nothing but a
caution against folly and hypocrisy: — such lips are not wont
to distil wisdom ; nor will we seek it thence. There is then
a priraa facie case against the nicene divines, inasmuch as they
were not husbands and fathers, as church rulers should have
been. Even in relation to the most abstracted point of theology, the
judgment of a body of ascetics is sure to be perverted : much
more so, if the question be of a kind involving the very principle
of the ascetic life. So is it with the sacramental question ; and
the doctrine prevalent in the fourth century was nothing else but
another form, or expression, of the very principle which the
ascetic life embodied. The ascetic error did not consist in a
denial, or exclusion, of what is moral, spiritual, and real ; but iu
thrusting forward, and in making too much of, what is visible,
formal, and accidental. Holiness and purity were not denied;
but virginity and bodily' purity were chiefly talked of, and were.
regarded as if they implied, and conveyed, and were the equiva
lents of, genuine moral qualities.
The substitution of the form for the substance, is so pro
minently characteristic of the ascetic scheme of life, that I
cannot suppose it to be called in question. But now, what was
the sacramental doctrine of the very same men ? It was — not
a denial of grace, and of the spiritual realities of the christian
life, but a putting foremost, and a talking most of, the rite, as a
rite. The very men who were accustomed to use the words
sanctity and virginity, continence and celibacy, as synonymous
terms, or as equivalents, did also constantiy speak of baptism,
and of the eucharist, as intrinsically holy, and as conveying
holiness ; or, at the best, they so held up these rites before
the people, as led them to pay a fatally exclusive regard to the
ceremony ; whfle moral and spiritual qualities, or states of the
heart, were lost sight of.— The very man who thinks hiraself as
holy as Gabriel, because a virgin, and who reckons so many

WITH RITUAL NOTIONS AND PRACTICES.

401

hours' fasting to be worth a certain quantum of expiatory merit,
is he who attributes a justifying and sanctifying efficacy to bap*
tismal water, and beUeves that the swallowing, or the carrying
about with him, a consecrated wafer, shall get hira admitted into
heaven. Is there then no oneness of principle, in these several
notions ? But if the analogy be admitted, then, to be con
sistent, we should either admit the ascetic doctrine along with
the sacramental, both springing, as they do, from the same
principle ; or else, rejecting that principle, disallow both of its
consequences. The sacramental and the ascetic doctrine were however con
nected by yet another link. We have adverted to the fact that
it was the ascetics exclusively, or nearly so, who pretended to
miraculous powers ; and it was they too who were the dealers
with the demon legions. That is to say, men who are cut off
from the employments, interests, cares, and enjoyments of com
mon life, and who are kept also out of the school of practical
wisdom, must provide themselves with excitements of another
order, and they will court such as being condemned by reason,
wifl be left to their uninvaded enjoyment. — In other words,
monks and hermits, and men forced by wfld notions of religion
from off the path of humanity — such will feed upon wonders.
The transition from what is unnatural to what is supernatural,
is an easy process, needing nothing but so much religious belief
as may fall far short of what would render a man either pious,
or moral.
But the supernatural has its two species, and superstition has,
therefore, its two kinds. Events out of the course of nature are
either irregular or regular, the one being directly miraculous, the
other indirectly so, and subjected to a fixed mode of operation.
The first are miraculous in the usual sense of the word ; the
second, consisting in ritual performances, involve indeed an
immediate interposition of the divine power, but yet are connected
with the due observance of certain ceremonies. The exorcisms
of the ancient church occupied a place between these two species
of miracles, for whfle they were occasional and visible, like proper
miracles, they nevertheless foflowed, infaUibly, a given formula,.
and were effected, like any other church services, by a distinct

¦402 CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE
class of ecclesiastics. The exorcists were officers who under
took to expel demons, as physicians do to heal diseases.
There were many other influences, not now to he spoken of,
which concurred in bringing forward the sacramental supersti
tion ; but the one we have here in view would have been enough
alone. When all the more fervent-minded of the clergy, along
with the ambitious, and the credulous, affected celibacy and were
in fact ascetics — debarred from every salutary and corrective
motive, these would be tending, with the regulars, toward the
miraculous, in both kinds. It cannot be imagined that men
breathing the stiffing atmosphere of religious houses, and ever
gaping for miracles — seeing visions, hearing voices, encountering
legions of demons— that such should be contented to rest in a
ritual purely spiritual and rational, and which secured edification
by the divine blessing upon the use of ordinary means of in
struction and persuasion. No such rule of simplicity could
satisfy men who, instead of coming from their homes, to church,
and of returning from church to their homes, issued from cloisters,
and returned to cloisters. The sacramental miracles, which
blaze on the pages of Chrysostom — ' the terrible mysteries,'
which archangels dared not look upon, are the awful rites of a
refigion whose ministers (the serious and sincere among thera)
have been wrought up into an habitual frenzy, and to whora
nothing is real, but the unreal.
The sacraments, just as we find them aUuded to in the New
Testament, may well and fltly be administered by one who, in
going forth to his duties, returns a chubby infant to its mother's
arms, and who, in returning, is greeted by laughing eyes and
clapping of hands. The refigion of the Apostles is part and parcel
with the natural and domestic condition of the human heart ; it is
pure, kindly, gentle, and soothing to every affection of our nature.
Its observances are not 'terrible' — 'astounding' — 'ineffable:'
they are not the wonder- fraught rites of the nicene church; — no,
because the apostolic ministers — bishops, presbyters, deacons,
were mere still ; but the nicene bishops, priests, deacons — what
must we caU them, seeing that they had put off from themselves
all the better qualities of the manly nature? The difference
between the apostolic and the nicene clergy, as to their personal

WITH RITUAL NOTIONS AND PRACTICES. 403
and social condition, just measures out the confessed difference
hetween the apostofic rites, and the nicene mysteries.
But further; the sacramental doctrine and practice of the
nicene, and of the ante-nicene church, had a special ecclesiastical
import, which offers itself to the eye of every impartial inquirer.
The Church, very early, had gathered around itself a various
mass, which it had to govern by means altogether of a factitious
kind. Whfle, on the one side, it had forfeited the vital energy
of apostolic truth, having compromised as well doctrines as
precepts, it had driven a portion of its members into a position
where to govern them at all was a task of the highest imaginable
difficulty. Not now to speak of the clergy themselves, let it be
considered that every local church had under its care companies
of women, elder and younger, who being removed from their
natural guardians', whether husbands, or parents, or brothers, had
also been pushed forward to sustain a part they were few of them
equal to. These women were, for the most part, dependent for
their dafly bread upon the Church, and the condition of their
receiving this eleemosynary maintenance, was their being in
communion therewith. As poor merely, their moral and spiritual
state might have been overlooked ; but as virgins, they could
advance no claim irrespective of their personal deserts.
Unless we bear these simple facts in mind, it will be impossible
to understand the motive of that intense anxietj' not to be ex
cluded from communion, which induced the nuns to submit, as
reported by Cyprian and by Chrysostom, to the last humiliations,
in attestation of their virtue. These things were not occasional,
but ordinary ; and not even the vicious operation of the ascetic
institute can be believed so far to have robbed woman of her
proper nature, and of her self-respect, as is implied in these
revolting usages — unless it be under the pressure of some cruel
necessity. Pitiable indeed was the condition of multitudes of
young women who had been driven by fanatical or licentious
priests, or cruel relatives, at the earfiest age, into convents (or
into the profession of virginity) and who, thus reduced to help
lessness, were compelled, from time to tirae, to earn their ticket
for the sacrament, and for their bread, by shameful compliances.
It is manifest however, that an influence of a higher sort than

404 CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE
that which might arise from the mere anxiety of a pensioner, would
be kept in force, if possible. That is to sa)', communion with the
Church, and a participation in the right which sealed and signified
that communion, besides its vulgar import to these pensioners,
would be surrounded with loftier and more impressive sentiments.
The clergy, feeling the peculiar difficulty of their task in having
to govern before the eye of the Church and the world, the virgin
company, would do and say everything tending to strengthen their
influence over the imaginations of the goveiTied, and to bring
them within the range of more refined hopes and fears.
As to the genuine motives of piety, it were absurd to suppose
that these could take effect upon the minds of women such as
were those spoken of by Cyprian, Jerome, and Chrysostom. Yet
such, even the most frivolous, and the most licentious, are often
vividly alive to superstitious terrors. In modern catholic coun
tries this combination is found to involve nothing that is incom
patible ; and the nuns of Antioch, in the nicene age, gave proof
also of the harmony of these same elements.
The clergy had a cumbrous engine to work ; and, to keep it in
order, they avafled themselves of every means which they found
would take effect upon it. Hence the mysterious terrors where
with the eucharistic rite was enveloped. Minds hardened against
the genuine motives of the Gospel, might yet be overawed by the
terrors of the eucharistic ceremonial; and might be made to
tremble by the threat of being driven from the altar. One cannot
read those over-wrought passages in which the great nicene
preachers are labouring to invest the celebration of the mysteries
with terrors — even with horrors, and not feel that there was an
unconfessed motive, a secret necessity, a latent reason of govern
ment, at the bottom of afl this astounding rhetoric. The Apostles
were accustomed to speak in no such style of their ' breaking of
bread;' no, for the Apostles had no convents and monasteries to
manage. The eucharistic rite may very well be regarded as the hinge of
the ecclesiastical economy of the nicene age. There was a ten
dency of every thing toward it ; it was more thought of and
regarded than any other element of the refigious system ; the
highest benefits were connected with a due participation in it,

WITH RITUAL NOTIONS AND PRACTICES. 405
and the most terrible evils were the consequences of even a
temporary exclusion from the privilege. Before the time when
the Church wielded secular powers, excommunication was its last
resource, in dealing with the refractory ; and after the time when
ecclesiastical censures were followed by civil pains, it continued
to he the terrible precursive act of a process which might deprive
the victim of fortune, liberty, life, and consign him, as was be
lieved, to eternal misery.
Now it can never be believed that this well- designated ' terrible
mystery,' should have continued, from age to age, unchanged,
while the scheme of government of which it was the hinge, was
advancing from the simplest condition of a humble association of
guileless men and women, to that of a complicated, wealthy, and
ambitious polity, embracing interests of all kinds, and binding
together various bodies ; and these wrought up to a state of
artificial excitement. Look at the apostolic church, such as we
may suppose it to have been in reading the Acts of the Apostles :
— look at the churches of the nicene age, at Antioch, Constanti
nople, Rome, Milan, three centuries afterwards ; and then con
sider whether that ' breaking of bread' which was the symbol
of communion in the one society, was likely to have undergone
no changes when it came to be the symbol of communion in the
other ! In truth, the two rites differ just as the two societies
differ ; and the two differed in their first principles, in their in
gredients, and in their spiritual and moral characteristics.
What is now proposed to the protestant church is in substance
this — To leave, as crude, or as ' undeveloped,' the ritual elements
of Christianity, such as they may be gathered from the monuments
of the apostofic age ; and to take these elements from the hands
of the ascetic, unmarried (often licentious, ambitious, fanatical)
and superstitious clergy of the fourth century.
Were it not better to yield ourselves at once to the well-
digested doctrine and practice of the later (romish) church 1 If
a power of gradual development belongs at all to the Church (and
unless this he supposed, the ripened doctrine and worship of the
nicene age has no authority, and is nothing but innovation) then,
how can we be sure that this power had exhausted itself, or had
been abrogated, precisely in the fourth century? On what
E E

406 CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE
grounds do we resist its operation as extant in the fifth, sixth,
seventh ? Or why befieve that it put forth its last energy, and
expired, in the acts of the council of Trent ? The church of
Rome may indeed choose to take her stand at this point ; but
she is not, in principle, compelled to do so, and might even now,
on urgent motives, so modify her past decisions (never wifl she
change her nature) as to enable her to invite the return to her
bosom of some whom she sees to be mourning their alienation
from her maternal embraces.*
The power which removed the cup from the lips of the laity,
may restore the boon ; or it may so expound any article of faith
as to open a door of return to the penitent. Whether it wiU, or
may, make any such concessions, or not, the church of Rome, at
the present moment, does not leave her banished ones to doubt
of the yearnings of her heart toward them. If they would fain
return, she, on her part, would fain receive them. The feeling
pervading the catholic world, and cherished especially at Rome,
in regard to the Oxford Tract divines, and their party, has not
failed to express itself, and will probably become more and more
decisive: witness the following. —
' The attention of all good catholics, and especially of the
Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, cannot be enough
excited by the present state of religion, in England, in conse
quence of the new doctrine, propagated with so much ability and
success, by Messrs. Newman, Pusey, and Keble, with arguments
drawn from the holy fathers, of which they have just undertaken
a new edition (translation) in English. These gentlemen labour
to restore the ancient catholic liturgy — the breviary (which many
of them, to the knowledge of the writer, recite daily) fastings, the
monastic life, and many other religious practices. Moreover they
teach the insufficiency of the Bible, as a rule of faith — the neces
sity of tradition, and of ecclesiastical authority — the real presence
— prayers for the dead — the use of images — the priests' power of
absolution — the sacrifice of the mass — the devotion to the virgin,

* Thus have we lain, thy charge, a dreary time,
Christ's little ones, torn from faith's ancient home.
To dogs a prey. Lyra Apostolica.

WITH RITUAL NOTIONS AND PRACTICES. 407
and many other cathofic doctrines, in such sort as to leave but
littie difference between their opinions and the true faith, and
which difference becomes less and less every day. Faithful !
redouble your prayers, that these happy dispositions may be
increased ! ' *
WhUst the romish church anticipates the happiest consequences
to result from the movement now taking place in England, she
need not entertain much anxiety concerning the course to be
adopted when the question of an actual reconciliation may come
on. She has an argument in reserve, which, even apart from any
small concessions, may be found effective in overcoming the
scruples of conscientious men. A romanist might thus address
the advocates of Oxford Tract principles. —
' You tell us that certain dogmas and practices confirmed by
the council of Trent, are neither catholic nor ancient. Grant it,
and yet we might demand, on general principles, the submission
of those (or at least their sflent conformity) who, while they
think much of the criminality of schism, also hold that the Church,
from the first, has possessed a permanent legislative and adminis
trative authority. — If it did not, how shall we justify the many
additions made to apostolic practice during the first three
centuries ? — Your church principles, what are they, if there be
no such authority ? But if there be, then how do you prove
that it came to an end, and did not flow on to the church of
Rome — at least in regard to western Christendom ?
' But leaving this ; we think it does not become you to except
against our dogmas and practices on the ground of the alleged
authority of a higher antiquity, until you have yourselves yielded,
fully and openly, to that same authority ; and especially in those
matters which it affirms to be of prime importance. In claiming
the right, as you seem to do, to reject certain parts of the ancient
church system, on the plea of a higher scriptural authority, i.e.
* Avvenimenti Edificanti massime Reoenti, &c. p. 11. Roma, 1839.
Con facolta. In other numbers of this religious periodical occur allusions to
the progress of ' sound opinions' in England, which might perhaps startle the
persons implicated, as well as the public. The passage cited above is thus
designated in the table of contents— Mirabile avvicinamento fra protestanti
alle Dottrine Cattoliohe.
£E 2

408 CONNEXION OF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE
on the strength of your private interpretation of the canonical
writings, you go the v/hole length of heretics and ult^a protest
ants, who do nothing worse ; and all the difference between' you
and them, will be a difference in particulars. This is not to
adhere to church principles.
' Now, as you well know, the ascetic doctrine, expressed in the
monastic life, and the consequent celibacy of the clergy, claim all
the weight and authority that can be derived from the sanction of
high antiquity and universal consent. You know that the mo
nastic system was an intiraate and inseparable element of the
religious and ecclesiastical system, at the time to which you attri
bute such an authority, as that it should overrule the later enact
ments of the romish church. You have yourselves admitted the
abstract excellence of the ascetic life ; — you adopt, as far as you
can, its characteristic devotional exercises, and you give the world
reason to believe that the restoration of the monastic orders would
be by no means disagreeable to you.
' But, to advance so far, is to advance too far, or not far enough.
You stand in an ambiguous position which it is hard to justify on
any general principle whatsoever. Even if the reformers had some
pretexts forchange, in relation to certain abuses of the romish
church, it was their high sin to have rejected and blasphemed the
monastic system — unquestionably ancient as it is ; — this system
was no popish corruption ; and to cast it out as evil, is to subvert
the first principle of church authority, and to set up another, even
that of the ultra-protestant principle. But what say you to the
church within which, at the peril of your souls, you remain, and
at whose altar you minister ? Your church has outraged catholic
antiquity by its rejection of monasticism. Your church has no
holy virgins : but was there any ancient church that had not, or
that did not make its boast of them ? Your church has not a
monastery, or a convent, or a hermit, or any one of those things
which the church universal of the nicene age regarded as of the
highest value. Call now St. Athanasius, and St. Basil, and
St. Ambrose, and St. John Chrysostom, and St. Gregory Nazian
zen, and St. Augustine, call them from their high seats in glory,
and let them judge hetween you and us ! What name think you
would these holy doctors bestow upon a church shorn of all the

WITH RITUAL NOTIONS AND PRACTICES. 409
honours of virginity — naked, naked, as it is ? With what emotions
of horror would they look around upon your married bishops,
your married priests ; — bishops and priests married after ordina
tion — married, some of them a second time — it may be a third !
Tell us then, are you bearing a faithful and courageous testimony
to holy catholic principles, in conforming to a church which, as
you cannot doubt, would have been spurned and condemned by
all the fathers and saints of the best age ?
' Tell us, and tell the world plainly, do you think with the holy
fathers, above named, on these momentous subjects ; or do you
think with the founders of your protestant church ? You are wont
to use strong language (though not too strong) in speaking of the
sin and danger of dissent ; but may not a man sometimes do
worse in conforming, than he could in dissenting ? Dissenters, if
they sincerely think what they profess, are at least honest men.
But now, tell us, do you think with your church in those promi
nent matters in relation to which it contradicts and impugns
catholic antiquity ? If you think with your church concerning
the monastic life, the merit of virginity, the invocation of saints,
the devotion paid to holy relics, and the like, where is your pro
fessed deference to antiquity ? If you do not think with it in
these points, essential as they are, what are you but dissenters —
wanting courage ?'
Obvious reasons of policy may induce the romish church to
forbid itself, at present, the use of arguments such as the above.
In what way the cogency of them, when advanced, may be
evaded, remains to be seen. The Oxford Tract divines are not
romanists in disguise ; they do not intend the reestablishment of
popery : but they devoutly admire, and would gladly restore, that
which the english reformers did not intend, and which they re
jected, feeling and seeing its contrariety to apostolic doctrine and
morals. These learned divines have, as it seems, advanced at a
too rapid rate ; not duly considering that, though reforma
tion may be quick-paced, and even sudden, the advances
or the return of superstitions (let the word be pardoned) must
always, in the nature of things, be slow. Seven or ten years will
not bring about the changes which were the work of two or three

410 CONNEXION BF THE ASCETIC INSTITUTE, ETC.
centuries. By this precipitation they have become seriously
ensnared ; — ensnared as churchmen, approving what their church
does not allow, or has pointedly condemned : — ensnared as the
professed adherents of catholic antiquity, by not bearing their
testimony openly and practically, to every catholic principle.
From these embarrassments they may indeed withdraw them
selves, silently and insensibly, if time be allowed them for
gradually shifting their position, and for retracting, little by little,
what was said — before its time. Meanwhile the cordiafly affected
adherents of the reformation must wish to see the present contro
versy dealt with in the most summary method, and brought to
the speediest possible conclusion.

411

ADDITIONAL REFERENCES AND CITATIONS.

In the preceding pages I have purposely avoided throwing
the stress of my argument, in any instance, npon facts or testimo
nies of a recondite or questionable kind, and have appealed only
to evidence which abounds on all sides, and of which any one
may readily collect more than enough, who has access to the
works where it is to be found. Even a few days' industry, pro
perly directed, would amply suffice for enabling the reader to
satisfy himself concerning all the statements or allegations to
which, in t'nese numbers, any importance is attached. It is not
indeed to be supposed that many should give themselves even this
degree of trouble ; some however will do so ; — more than a very
few are actually engaged in researches of this sort, and it is much
to he desired that they should he continued until the truth, and
the whole truth, concerning the religious opinions and practices of
the first six centuries has become generally diffused. It is only
by the means of this knowledge of antiquity that we can be
qualified to deal with romanism, or can be secured against the
insidious advances of that species of pietism of which popery is
merely a digested scheme.
More with the view of saving the labour of any who may be
entering upon these studies, than of substantiating in a formal
manner statements which no well informed opponent would think
of calling in question, I shall now point out the path in pursuing
which the reader may, with very little expense of time, satisfy
hiraself as to the condition of the nicene church, in regard to one
or two principal points which have been glanced at in the preced
ing pages : and in order to preclude an incidental disappointment.

412 ADDITIONAL REFERENCES AND CITATIONS.
I wfll refer to those works only which are the most likely to be
accessible to the reader. In fact, it is the evidence of these few
that is the most conclusive : what is recondite and rare would be
so much the less satisfactory.
One principal point, referred to in these numbers, is the actual
condition, from the first, of the ascetic institute. The evidence
bearing upon this subject has a double importance, first, inasmuch
as it dissipates the dangerous illusion concerning an age of purity,
and of generally diffused truth and hofiness ; and secondly, as it
tends to discourage, and to arrest the attempts, now so industri
ously making, to reestablish the celibate.
The ascetic institute and the celibate, have existed under three
distinguishable conditions — the first that in which we find them
in the middle of the third century, when the system was the least
artificial in its constitution, and, one would suppose, the least
liable to abuses. What it was in fact, at that time, may he
gathered from those passages in Cyprian to which I have already
referred. The epistle to Pomponius, and the Treatise de habitu
virginum, must be perused entire. The second condition is that
of the nicene age, when monasteries and convents were springing
up on all sides, and when the ascetic feeling (mania) was at its
height. The third, is that regulated and severe form, imposed
upon the monastic orders under the auspices of the Romish church,
and with which at present we have nothing to do. It is with the
second that we are concerned. Does the inquirer choose then
to take his idea of the nicene asceticism from a few devotional
pieces, and hortatory compositions, showing what it should have
been ; or from the direct and indirect admissions of its admirers ?
I presume the latter course is to be preferred; nor can we do
better than open Chrysostora ; and it is curious to turn frora any
of his splendid descriptions of the celestial polity which the
monastic orders professed to realize (as, tom. i. p, 115) to passages
such as the one already cited (p. 298) and to the two treatises,
in one of which this passage occurs. I will say nothing more of
them than that they should serve as a caution against the easy,
but dangerous error of supposing that modern church historians
have fully and fairly depicted the ancient church. The very facts
most necessary to be known, are barely glanced at by any of

JtDDITIONAL REFERENCES AND CITATIONS.

413

these writers. The first of these admonitory treatises is addressed
irpog Tovg 'exovrae Trapdevove avveuraKTOvg, the title of the second
is — Tzepl TOV firj rag KavoviKae avvoiKcIv dvSpdaiv. It is manifest
that the practices inveighed against were common, and the abuses
mentioned notorious. There is indeed nothing to be wondered at
in these things — except it be the infatuation of those who, with
such facts before them, could yet persist in the endeavour so to
fight against human nature and Christianity. Basfl's Treatise on
Virginity,* which I will not recommend the reader to make
himself acquainted with, gives indications enough of the exist
ence and frequency of abuses, even worse than those referred to
by Chrysostom. Jerome, cautious and yet caustic, can neither
withhold the truth, nor plainly declare it : in his Epistie to
Eustochium he must be listened to as a reluctant witness, inti
mating more than he will say. Elsewhere however he freely
admits that the excellence professed by the two classes of ascetics
was hut rarely realized. f Sed rara est, et paucissimis dono Dei
hfflc perfectio concessa. Again in the epistle — Ad Rusticura
Monachum, the truth comes out, and it appears plainly that the
system exhibited, in Jerome's time, every one of those inherent
bad qualities which have always drawn upon it the contempt and
abhorrence of mankind. This epistle (of a few pages only) the
studious reader will peruse throughout : no evidence can be more
unexceptionable. Jerome's testimony might well be admitted as
sufficient alone ; but it accords minutely with that of Chrysostom,
especially as to the custom against which the first of the above-
named treatises is directed. — ' Some you may see with their loins
girt, clad in dingy cloaks, with long beards, who yet can never
break away from the company of women ; but live under the
same roof, sit at the sarae tables, are waited upon by young girls,
and want nothing proper to the married state, except — wives ! '
The luxury commonly indulged in by the rich ascetics, the osten
tatious and rapacious practices of the poor, and the insanity ofthe
fanatical sort, are spoken of without disguise. Vidi ego quos-
* I have once and again, in citing Basil's ascetic writings, mentioned a
doubt which, on the slenderest grounds, has been advanced as to their author
ship. t Comment, in Lament, cap. 3.

414 ADDITIONAL REFERENCES AND CITATIONS,
dam, &c. . . , publico extendentes manus, pannis aurum tegimus,
et contra omnium opinionem, plenis sacculis moriraur divites, qui
quasi pauperes vixiraus. Nothing else can be inferred from this
epistle* than that the graphic description it contains of knavery,
licentiousness, and insanity, was applicable to the many ; and
that the exceptions were few : nequaquam considerans quid alii
mail faciunt, sed quid boni tu facere debeas ; neque vero peccan-
tium ducaris mullitudine, et te pereuntium turba, &c. This sort
of evidence, furnished by a passionate admirer of the ascetic
institute, ought to be considered as conclusive. Erasmus,
deterrained to give the ancient monks a credit, at the expense of
his contemporaries, contradicts the clearest testimonies in his
' Antidote' to this epistie, which, by the way, is highly curious as
indicative of the approaching reformation. I beg to commend
the passage to the attention of the modern admirers of ascetic
practices, quse, says Erasmus, magis ad judteos pertinent, quam
ad christianos, et superstitiosum facere possunt, pium non possunt.
Does not all experience confirm this weighty testimony ?
I resent the humiliation of making grave references to book and
chapter of a work like that of Cassian. If called upon to make
good any of the assertions or intiraations concerning the nicene
monkery which I may have left unsupported by direct citations,
Cassian would help me out of every difficulty. The monastic
rules of St. Pachomius are appended to this writer's Institutes,
and exhibit the spirit and quality of the monastic life : they are
prefaced by Jerome with a brief and curious account of it, as
then established in the Thebais, under the immediate direction of
an ' angel sent from heaven,' for this purpose.
But the reader who would give the ancient asceticism the
highest possible advantage, will take his idea of it frora Basil.
This father's ascetic writings do not occupy much space, and they
should be read by those who are now told that the monastic
system of the ancient church was wise, holy, rational, and
christian-like. These compositions are — Some of his Epistles, as
those to Nazianzen, and to Amphilochius : the Treatises — on
Virginity, and on Abdication of the world, and spiritual perfection.
* And see, ad Nepot.

ADDITIONAL REFERENCES AND CITATIONS.

415

By the way, why should not this treatise find a place among
' selections' from the fathers ? Let us have it faithfully rendered,
and without retrenchment. Basfl says to his disciple — a young
monk — 'Hast thou left thy ceU? Thou hast left there thy
virtue.' What sort of virtue is that which evaporates the moment
it is exposed to daylight? or what is the whole meaning of the
impassioned advice — ' Shun the society of those of thine own age ;
Yea, flee from it as from a burning flarae ?' How few then are the
steps that lead from the doctrine of angelic virginity, to the lowest
depths ! First comes celibacy, imposed upon youths of ardent tem
perament — then, by necessity, the stern separation of the sexes ;
and next — what ? we may learn from Basil ! It is not without vehe
ment emotions of disgust and indignation that one sees this ancient
and worst device of the devil set agoing again, after such proofs
of its true quafity. Basfl's ' Monastic Institutions,' and 'Rules,'
longer and shorter, embody all points of the theory and practice
of the ascetic Ufe ; and whoever wishes to know what it was,
will read these throughout. Compelled to forego the araple
citations I had intended,' I wfll point to a few expressions only,
as they present themselves. Ad Amphfloc. 2. Basfl decides
that girls should not be allowed to profess before their sixteenth,
or seventeenth years. Any irregularity fallen into by those who
had voluntarily devoted themselves at this mature age, was to he
punished with ' inexorable severity ! ' He enjoins also that when
parents or brothers, or, as sometimes happened, distant relatives,
brought girls to the convent, from interested motives, the consent
of the victim should be ascertained ! The Monast. Constit,
commence by recomraending a total surrender of the soul and
body to God, including (cap. xx.) the renunciation of every tie
of kindred : ' it is the devil's craft,' says Basil, ' to keep alive in
the raind of the raonk a recollection of his parents and natural
relatives, so as that, under cover of rendering them some aid, he
may be drawn aside from his heavenly course I' Let us now com
pare theory with facts. We hear Basil (cap. iii.) strictly forbidding,
except in cases of the most extreme necessity, any sort of inter
course with women. At the same moment the monks, generally,
according to Jerome and Chrysostom, were maintaining as many
girls about them as their means would allow ! Pachomius forbids

416 ADDITIONAL REFERENCES AND CITATIONS.
a monk to secrete any thing in his cell, not even an apple ;
and Basil insists, again and again, that his monks are to renounce
every atom of private property, as cap. xviii. ; but Jerorae tells us
that the monks about him were gathering wealth within their
ragged sleeves. To Basil's rule that a monk should cease to care
for his relatives, some, he tells us, objected the apostle's declara
tion — ' If a man provide not for his own,' &c. Yes, but Paul
addressed this to the living, not to the dead ; and a genuine monk
is virtually dead to the world, although breathing the upper air ;
and as such he is exempt frora every secular obligation ! cap. xx.
' as dead thou art free frora all contributions for the benefit of thy
natural relatives ; and, as utterly a pauper, thou hast nothing which
thou canst bestow.' Is not this nearly the sarae as the ' corban '
of the Pharisees ? In his second discourse, Constit. Monast., Basil
insists upon the greater severity needful in the government of
convents, and iraposes restrictions which one would iraagine must
have secured a degree of decorum. How far these rules were
regarded, we may best learn from Chrysostom. I must cut short
these references, only taking the liberty to recommend those who
may now be carrying the ' Hymni Ecclesiae ' in their pockets, or
in their bosoms, to look into the history of monkery, from the
nicene age, onward, before they allow themselves to speak of it
as a heaven-born institution.

j^g, 4. l^Price 2s. 6d,

ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY,
&c. &c.

THE VISIBLE CHURCH— ACCORDING TO CHRIST'S PRE
DICTIONS AND PARABLES.

Intelligent persons, well taught in the Scriptures, may easily
be supposed to have reached maturity without hearing so much as
a page of church history. What the course of events from the
apostolic times may have heen, or what the colour of ecclesiastical
annals, through the lapse of eighteen centuries, they know not ;
and of even the present condition and extent of Christianity, in the
world, we may imagine such persons to be ignorant. To some
such then we now make an appeal, and ask them to furnish us
with a conjectural church history, calculated (so to speak) from
the data, or predictive elements which they may gather from the
inspired volume itself. ' What think you,' we ask, ' has probably
happened in, and to, the visible christian church, from the times
of the Apostles, down to these last days ?'
This must be regarded as more than a merely curious question,
if it so happens that, among those to whom church history is
actually known, a vital controversy is on foot, concerning the
interpretation which ought to be put upon its most prominent
facts. Ingenuous minds, imbued with principles drawn directly
and exclusively from the Scriptures, might very properly be con
stituted the arbiters of such a controversy ; hut may we surmise
what would be their reply ?
The prompt answer of such persons, dictated by their instinct-
tive feefings, and given without careful regard to the detafls of the
F F

418 THE visible church  ACCORDINO TO
inspired testimony, would probably be to this effect— That the
Gospel, worthy as it is of all acceptation, had doubtless made its
way, in peaceful triumph, and more or less rapidly, from land to
land, and that, long before eighteen centuries had run their course,
all kindreds and tribes had paid their homage to the Saviour, and
that long ago, the dark places of the earth — the habitations of
cruelty, had been enlightened by the bearas of truth. Such a
reply would almost certainly be given, at the moraent, by persons
qualified just as we have supposed.
But we must appeal from any such fervid, and too precipitate
decision ; and, on the ground of melancholy facts, broadly stated
to the arbiters, should demand their reconsideration of the ques
tion, and their careful review of whatever the New Testament
contains, which may seem to bear upon the history of Christianity
through the course of time. In a word, putting all warm antici
pations and pious hopes aside, let it coofly be inquired — What
course of events did our Lord and the Apostles appear themselves
to have had in view, when, with infallible foreknowledge, they
looked through the mists of time, and sketched for our benefit
the outline of ' things to come ?' This then is the very inquiry
which we have just now before us ; and in pursuing it, we must,
so far as may be done, bring ourselves into the imaginary position
of persons uninformed of church history, and endeavouring to
divine it from the prophetic and symbolic elements which the
inspired writings afford.
The christian community, with its thousand varieties of opinion,
divides itself broadly into two classes, on the ground of the inter
pretation that is to be put upon the course of events, from the
apostolic times to our own ; and this partition must henceforward
become more distinct and absolute than ever it has yet been ;
and it must be carried out in its practical consequences, until
every single christian has declared himself on the one side or on
the other. There are — there can be, but two modes of regarding
the history of the Church ; and although many, yet calling thera
selves protestants, or whom we must in courtesy call such, are
struggling to keep a footing on middle ground, the endeavour is,
in the nature of things, hopeless ; and it must soon appear so
even to theraselves. Notions (sadly contradicted by the entire

Christ's predictions and parables. 419
body of evidence) concerning the condition of the ancient church,
have hitherto served to screen this untenable middle ground, and
have excused the fllusion of those who so fondly desire to save
themselves from consistent protestantism, without surrendering
their faith, unconditionally, to Rome.
The view taken of church history by the romanist is consistent
with itself, and is, in a sense, consoling and satisfactory ; but then
it involves suppositions which are utterly at variance with the
spirit of Christianity ; and moreover it stands directly opposed to
every prophetic indication of what was to happen in the aftertimes
of the Church. On the other hand, the protestant view of the
same series of events, while it saves the honour and purity of the
Gospel, and corresponds, in the most exact manner, with the in
spired predictions, cannot be entertained without some distress of
mind ; nor is it to be so brought into perspective, as to afford any
tranquil satisfaction to the eye. Our concern however is with
truth, not immediate comfort ; nor dare we cherish fllusions, how
ever agreeable. In the present instance, truth has to be followed
over rugged ground.
In the preceding numbers I have undertaken the ungracious
task of dissipating inveterate illusions, felt to be agreeable, and
believed by many to be sacred. It now reraains to pursue an
inquiry demanding not less resolution in the writer, or ingenu
ousness in the reader ; and yet nothing can be clearer than is the
necessity for advancing. The fast ripening controversy with
Rome, to which her renovated endeavours in all parts of the
world are giving the most serious importance, warns, or should
warn, the protestant community to look anew to its first princi
ples : or even if no such vital question were at issue, the very
same course has become indispensable, in relation to the present
character of infidefity (we must now call it atheism). Nothing
can be more perilous to ourselves and to others, than to encounter
either romanism or atheism, on any ground which we shall be
compelled to abandon. The incidental disgrace of a retreat from
a false position, is likely to involve the fatal consequences of a
real defeat, to ourselves — to our opponents — and to the spectators
of the conflict.
Unless protestants speedily look better to their standing than
F F 2

^20 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
they have been used to do, very many, watching the course of
controversy, wfll sflentiy come to the befief that there is no alter
native between roraanism and atheism. To this very feeling the
church of Rome has, in fact, been indebted for more than a few
recent conversions. Christianity must be allowed to take to itself
all the advantage to which it is entitied, of having clearly fore
shown a course of events which, at the first aspect of them, seem
the most irreconcilable with the supposition of its truth. The
very same argument therefore, by means of which this advantage
for the religion of Christ is clairaed and raade good, destroys,
on the one hand, popery (with all its cognates) and on the other
hand, infidelity. There can be no conclusive dealing with the one
of these forms of error, whfle our secret purpose is to save the
other. That is to say, a protestant can never reply to the infidel,
with any effect, if he means to reserve his deference toward the
principles which romanism embodied. ' Church principles,' as at
present professed, indulge men with a degree of liberty of inquiry
which the romish church consistently, and mercifully, as well as
absolutely, prohibits. But if any room be left for freedom of
thought and inquiry, intelligent men, looking to the general and
uniform tenor of history, can come to no other conclusion than
that Christianity, if it is to be understood as the advocates of church
principles do understand it, raust always be, as it ever has been,
the nurse of superstition, the guardian of ignorance, the sister of
despotism, and the instigator of cruelty. Nothing can exempt the
religion of Christ from these fatal reproaches if those doctrines are
really part and parcel of it which the papacy did but amplify and
realize. Infidels may confidently say — ' If the eariy and nicene
church did truly interpret the Gospel, then the popery of the
middle ages is what we have to look to, as the final resting place
to which it will lead us. If we are not to think at all, in matters
of religion, we had better at once take refuge in the bosom of the
church of Rome ; but if we are permitted to inquire concerning
the tendency of religious systems, then it is manifest that Chris
tianity, in the sense of the church of the fourth century, is littie
better than a scheme of superstition, fanaticism, and spiritual
tyranny ; and that it corrupts the morals ofthe mass of men, not
less than it shocks the reason of the few,'

Christ's predictions and parables.

421

How did Pascal fare, mighty as he was in mind, and eminently
holy, and possessing as he did the advantage of the loftiest repu
tation in the scientific world, how did he fare, when he undertook
to maintain Christianity, from the ground of romanism ? Pascal's
Thoughts are indeed convincing to those who', as they follow his
cogent argument, from page to page, set ofi' from it the entire body
of the writer's romanism ; but these sarae reasonings have proved
to be altogether inefficient, in relation to the religious opinions of
the mass of his countrymen, who have not learned to think of the
refigion of Christ otherwise than as it is offered to them by the
church of Rome. Nothing can be more instructive than to con
template Pascal, in the hands of Condorcet, and Voltaire, who,
not choosing to admit any distinction between Christianity and
popery, feel perfectly at their ease, in presence even of the most
cogent reasoning in behalf of the former, so long as the argument
is made to embrace, and must share the fate of, the foljies and
enormities of the latter. Had Pascal stood forward to defend
CHRISTIANITY, and nothing else, not one of the encyclopedists
would have dared to touch him, much less to put him forward,
aided with their comments and commendations. As it is, they
well felt that nothing could be so fatal to the credit and influence
of Christianity, in the end, as to hold it up, defended in the ablest
manner, and under the advocacy of the greatest mind of his age,
and yet, with the absurdities of romanism included. They clearly
foresaw that, under these conditions, the reasoning which must fail
to carry romanism, would, hy all but the most discriminating, be
held to have fafled also to carry Christianity.
And such has been the actual consequence. Pascal, gloried in
and read, as the father of French literature, and allowed to have
triumphed in his controversy with the Jesuits, is held in sheer
contempt as the advocate of Christianity. And let a greater than
Pascal arise, at the present moraent, undertaking to deal with
infldelity on the ground of nicene church principles, and the result
must be the same : — that is to say, provided the doctrines, usages,
and real condition of the nicene church are truly understood on
afl sides. A fictitious statement might indeed be presented con
cerning the primitive ages, such as would, for a moment, seem to
secure an advantage ; hut only let candour, and historic truth be

422 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
duly regarded, and then the endeavour to bind up the niceno
church with Christianity, must end just as every attempt has
ended to compromise the Gospel of Christ^with the foolish super
stitions and the tyranny of Rome.
Men of intelligence, not already wedded to an ecclesiastical
theory, wfll never be persuaded that the incidental differences
which distinguish the religious system of the fourth century from
that of the seventh or the tenth, are such as to afford ground for
a philosophic distinction ; as if, while the latter (and the later)
must be condemned, the former (and the eariier) should be
respected. If, therefore, when urged to submit themselves to
the Gospel, they are told that what is meant is nicene Christianity,
they must (if well informed in church history) regard such a
proposal as involving the utter prostration of the understanding.
' What then ! we are to believe with Jerome — with Ambrose — •
with PaUadius ! We are to dote with Cassian, and are to cringe
at the feet of Basfl, when required to listen to Christ, to Paul, to
Peter ! '
There is then, as I venture to affirm, an urgent necessity, in
regard to the new and more ominous form of unbelief, for disen
gaging our faith in the Scriptures from all entanglement with the
folly, hypocrisy, and superstition of the nicene age.
This consideration, weighty as it may be, is however incidental
to my argument. What is essential to it, is to insist upon the
serious importance, to every individual christian, and to religious
communities, of our regarding the papacy, and its precursive
forms, in the light in which it, and they, were regarded by our
Lord and the Apostles, when they looked onward through the
course of tirae. In other words, that we should, individuaUy and
collectively, be found standing ' on the Lord's side,' in relation to
the stupendous ecclesiastical system which has called itself ' the
CHURCH ' through so many centuries.
A persuasion is strong in many minds, that the destined over
throw of popery is an event not now very remote. The present
renovation of its power, and its rapid spread in all parts of the
world, favour the belief that the ' last hour' of the satanic delu
sion is at hand ; as if the Lord would arise to smite his adversary,
not while he sleeps, or is prostrate, but when he finds him awako,

Christ's predictions and parables. 423
and on his feet. I wfll profess no opinion on a question of this
kind ; and yet surely every refigious mind may see reason enough
in the colour of events, for entertaining a solemn caution, which
should regulate his feelings, and his public conduct too, in regard
to romanism.
But the hour of popery— its dismay and fafl, wifl also be the
fatal hour of whatever has had the same origin, and of whatever
breathes the same spirit, and of whatever is substantially of the
same quafity and tendency, and of whatever holds to it, by any
kind of vital connexion. By the faU of popery (if protestants
rightiy interpret prophecy) can we think nothing more to be
intended than — a quiet restoration of the cup to the laity — a littie
decency observed in the adoration of images — a caution imposed
upon the invocation of the virgin and the saints — a prohibition of
the open sale of pardons — a more discreet doctrine of purgatory —
a narrower boundary line drawn around the jurisdiction of the
bishop of Rome, and a new border given to the ' States of the
Church ?' Are changes and modifications such as these, all that
was foreseen by the exile of Patmos, when he proclaimed, in loud
exultation, as if it had been then transacted, the confusion of
the woraan clothed in scarlet, and the fall of Babylon ?
The fall of the mystic Babylon, we may confldently assurae,
will be nothing less than the sweeping frora the face of the earth
that great and ancient delusion which, springing at the first from
the banks of the Euphrates, the Indus, and the Ganges, has
oppressed and supplanted the doctrine of Christ, from age to age,
and which even now is renewing its youth as the eagle. The
only contention, then, among christian communities, at the present
moment, should be — Who shall stand the furthest from the brink
of the pit into which popery is to plunge.
But we return to our question — What order of events, con
nected with Christianity, would a devout and intelligent reader of
the New Testament be led to look for, as having filled the course
of time, from the apostolic age to the present ? In gathering the
evidence which bears upon this question, I shall collect such
scattered and incidental indications as occur, relating to the
extent and condition of the earliest christian societies. The
general result of this inquiry wfll, as I believe, serve to bring

424 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
the nicene and the romish churches under one and the same per
spective line ; and therefore will place the two, so far as they
were allied in principle and practice, in the same ominous position
of contrariety to the principles, spirit, and laws of the christian
dispensation. If the conduct of an inquiry such as this, involved, in my own
opinion, the necessity of pronouncing decisions, as a master of
biblical interpretation, upon rauch controverted interpretations of
the prophetic portions of Scripture, I should entirely avoid enter
ing upon it. I altogether disclaim the intention to speak as
ex cathedra, or as a doctor in theology. But it seems to me that,
keeping clear of what ought to be regarded as questionable, there
is a broad sense, even of the prophetic scriptures, which the mass
of christians (with due care) are qualified to ascertain : and when
such broad interpretations are found to be confirmed by the exact
coincidence of other kinds of evidence, I think they may well be
adhered to, with some confidence ; even although erudite inge
nuity might not want the means of showing that perhaps another
sense might be forced upon this or that mythic phrase.
We may even stop short of any definite interpretation of a
particular prediction, and yet may secure our general inference.
As for example ; many questions, and sorae of them important,
concerning Isaiah's prediction in the fifty-third chapter, may be
left undecided ; and yet the general truth of a suffering and
rejected Messiah, opposed to the fond Jewish notion of a military
and triumphant chief, may be very safely maintained. It is thus,
in regard to the predictions with which we shafl have to do.
The theory of church principles, as well as the pretensions of the
romish church, demands the supposition of an order of events,
and a condition of the Church, which actual history contradicts,
and which the inspired writers have distinctiy precluded. No
sense whatever can be assigned to those predictions if the nicene
and romish churches were, in fact, what their admirers and adhe
rents affirm them to have been. If the ' mind of the Lord ' were
indeed fuUy embodied in the constitution, spirit, and practices of
the romish hierarchy, such as we find it during its brightest era,*
* Ainsi la sooi^te que Jesus-Christ attendu durant tous les siJcles passes, a
enfin fondee sur la pierre, et oil Saint Pierre et ses successeurs doivent pr6-

Christ's predictions and parables. 425
then must we despair of interpreting any portion of the apostolic
predictions : but, on the other hand, if that hierarchy were indeed
what protestants assume it to have been, then not only do all
these predictions find an easy and consistent sense, but a further
consequence foUows, namely — that much more than the papacy
of the middle ages is embraced by the terms of the divine repro
bation. This is our thesis then — That ' church principles,' and
practices, such as they are now revived, after the model of the
nicene age, are part and parcel of the predicted impiety and super
stition which was to overshadow Christendom, through a cycle
of ages.
If there should appear reason for assenting to this general pro
position, then our next task will be to establish, in the methods
proper to an exact historical inquiry, the substantial identity of
the nicene and the romish churches ; at the same time giving
to each, and especially to the former, the benefit of such particular
exceptions as may appear to he fairly claimable in its behalf by
its advocates.
Far frora wishing to press into the service of our argument
every kind of evidence, or to use every particle of it, I shall
merely allude, in passing, to much that might perhaps justly be
employed to strengthen it.
The Jewish nation rejected its Messiah, and fell from the divine
favour, by a blind adherence to the pofitical sense it had put upon
the language of the Prophets. The sermon on the mount may he
regarded as at once a virtual disavowal, on our Lord's part, of
the national infatuation in this respect, and as an indication
(we might call it a prediction) of what would be the ordinary
position of the true church in the world ; as well as a description
ofthe temper that should he characteristic of his followers. We
are not indeed affirming that a direct or conclusive argument
against the pretensions of the bishop of Rome, as the vicar of
Christ, is to be drawn from the violent contrast which presents
sider par ses ordres, se justifie elle-meme par sa propre suite, et port dans son
gternelle (Juree le caractfire de la main de Dieu. Bossuet. All that can be
done by profound ingenuity for turning off from papal Rome the apocalyptic
and othfer prophecies, may be seen in this able writer's Discours sur I'Histoire
universelle ; to which I may find occasion to refer hereafter more particularly.

'^-^ THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
Itself when the obvious intention of the sermon on the mount is
compared with the state and quality of the papal court and polity,
at the height of its glory. A court the most sumptuous and the
most voluptuous of any in Europe, avarice and arrogance and
the lust of power reaching a pitch of which the worid had before
seen no examples, a tyranny less restrained by humanity and
more terrible than that of the Caesars, and a settied course of
policy, shameless, perfidious, and sanguinary— such, and in its
best age, and when it could do aU its pleasure, was the romish
court and power, such the Church of Christ, if the popes be
indeed the holders of the keys, and such the interpretation
assigned, by the successors of St. Peter, to the sermon on the
mount I We do not however urge an inference on this ground ;
nevertheless we believe that the true inference wfll force itself
upon every serious and ingenuous mind.
But suppose such an inference were admitted, what would it
have to do with the present question concerning nicene church
principles, as revived by the writers of the Tracts for the Tiraes ?
This ; namely — That those principles embrace every element of
the papal tyranny, cruelty, profiigacy, and spiritual apostasy, and
that, if left to work themselves out according to their proper
quality, they could have no other issue.
It is quite true, and we may perhaps five to see it to be so, that
devoted men, sincerely embracing nicene church principles, might,
so long as they formed a weaker and a suffering party, eminently
exemplify the temper described in the sermon on the mount ; but
then it is equally true, as we believe, that men professing such
principles, if once seated in the chair of power, and holding an
unchecked ficence to mould the civil and ecclesiastical constitu
tions of a country to their will, could and would do nothing else
but establish a ghostly tyranny, which, in less than a century, must
place the lives, fortunes, bodies, souls of the coraraunity at the
absolute disposal of a coUege of priests ; and unmarried priests !
Our Lord's description then of the christian temper and style
of behaviour, and of the ordinary condition of his followers, must
be regarded as tacitly reprehending principles which can never take
their uncontrolled course without quickly converting the church
into an engine of cruelty and extortion, and a sink of impurity.

Christ's predictions and parables. 427
In his customary manner, and not intending to exclude grada
tions of authority in the Church,* but rather to check and repre
hend the spirit of domination, our Lord forbids the assumption of
high sounding titles, "j" and the creation of any such distinctions
among his followers as must, in the nature of things, break up all
fraternal intercourse, and place one christian minister in a position
of trembling dependence upon another : no minister of Christ
must abjectly cringe at the feet of another minister of the same
master. In what manner Rome has interpreted this doctrine,
history tells us ; and history tell us too that the patriarchs and
bishops of the metropolitan sees in the nicene age carried out the
very sarae principle of irresponsible domination over both clergy
and people, to the utmost liraits which their political position
severally aUowed. Pope Syricius did not play the part of pope
Hildebrand, only because that which ' let' was not so early ' taken
out ofthe way.' Or even if we go much further back, we shall
find the arts and policy of the Innocents and the Urbans all in the
bud, and ready to blossom, in the de unitate Ecclesias of the martyr
of Carthage. And thus too the sovereign pontiff, described in the
Apostolic Constitutions, as seated on his high throne, gorgeously
attired, and surrounded hy his submissive presbyters, deacons,
subdeacons, and the rest, differs from a Gregory, or a Julius, only
in the extent of his diocese, and the dimensions of the church
chest which he has contrived to fiU. J

* 1 Cor. xii. 28 ; Heb. xiii. 7 ; Titus ii. 15.
t Matt, xxiii. 8 ; Luke xxii. 25, 28.
X Apost. Const, lib. ii. c. 57. Let us listen to these early notes of
spiritual ambition. ' The bishop is the minister of the word, the guardian,
tpv\al of knowledge, the mediator between God and you (the people) in what
ever appertains to his worship : he is the teacher of piety. He, after God, is
your father, having regenerated you to the adoption, by water and the Spirit-
He is your prince and ruler; he, your king and potentate; he, your earthly
god, after God, and who ought to have the benefit of your reverence ; for of
such it is God has said, ' I said ye are gods.' ' Such is the style of men
calling themselves the successors of the Apostles! We are accustomed to
speak with horror of the papacy, when we hear of its assumption of divine
honours ;-but how far short of such an assumption did these nicene bishops
come ? The annotator on this passage, lib. ii. .;. 26, shows that such a mode
of speaking of sacerdotal persons is warranted by the highest authorities of
the nicene age.

428 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
Our Lord's solenin prohibition — who wfll dare to scorn it? 'It
shall not be so among you,' does not mean, assuredly, that no
system of government shall be established in the Church ; but it
can mean nothing unless it be understood to condemn any system
which (human nature being what it is) wfll invariably generate
arrogance and ambition on the one side, and a servile habit of
assentation on the other ; or which, vehemently stiraulating
avarice, can never long be sustained apart from measures of fraud
and cruelty. The church of Rome is then condemned in prin
ciple, by this solemn prohibition of secular lordship, and the
nicene church also, inasmuch as its chief places of honour had
become such as would be eagerly coveted by the worst men, and
would ordinarily be obtained by the worst means. Already cor
ruption, fraud, bloodshed, had crowded upon the path that led to
the ' shepherd's ' seat.
Spiritual despotism has always laid its foundation upon a firm
bottom of formalism, i. e. the religion of rites ; our Lord then,
in assailing as he did, and even with unwonted vehemence and
high indignation, the formalism of his times, has prejudged and
condemned the nicene and romish churches in their very charac
teristics. The terrible rebuke — ' Fools and blind — hypocrites ! '
if deserved by the sanctimonious and profligate pharisee and
lawyer, must be held to come home, with not less force, to all in
every age who have flattered the human mind in its fatal aptitude
to contrive for itself, or to accept when contrived, a cheap religion
of costly and painful observances, as a substitute for the religion
of the heart and life. Has then the church of Rome favoured
this common delusion ? Yes, but not more than she had been
taught to do by the nicene doctors. No one but a romanist would
undertake the task of proving that the pharisaic pietism of our
Lord's time was more formal, or more trivial, or more dangerous
than was the ascetic pietism of the nicene age. Chrysostom's
doctrine of baptism, and the doctrine of Ambrose concerning the
eucharist, inasmuch as tiiey went deeper into the hearts of men,
and compromised truths far more serious, were just so much the
more pernicious than the frivolous ' washings of cups and platters,
and the tithings of ' mint and anise ' of the rabbis ; and, if
these stand condemned in loud tones of displeasure, those, by

Christ's predictions and parables. 429
necessary impfication, are denounced in thunder. The pharisee
had only depraved a religion of rites and symbols ; but the nicene
fathers went about to deprave a religion of truth and reason.
Whose was the greater guilt ?
A large part of our Lord's discourses bears, more or less
directly, upon the very point of announcing a spiritual and moral
systera, as opposed to a systera of ceremonial sanctity ; and it is
remarkable that, in nearly every instance in which he uses the
language, either of veheraent reprehension when addressing his
adversaries, or of sharp reproof toward his followers, th& occasion
is of this very kind : that is to say, when some infatuated sub
stitution of the form for the substance of religion and virtue
offered itself to his notice. The principle on which these rebukes
are given is uniformly of a kind that, by unavoidable inference,
condemns a servile or anxious regard to what is ritual and ex
ternal. If what 'defiles a man' is that which springs from the
heart, not that which enters by the mouth, then certainly what
may have efficacy to purify the heart must begin its operation
in the heart ; and is never to produce its effects in a direction
from without, inward. Our Lord denounces with scorn the
absurdity of supposing that a man whose bosom is fraught
with ruminated murders and adulteries, can either be made
better by external ablutions, or worse by neglecting them. Now
why may we not bring this appficable principle into contact
with the nicene sacramental doctrine and practice ? Whatever
were the explanations which might sometimes- be sUpped in, men
were peremptorfly taught, and by the highest authorities, to
believe that a mere plunge into the baptismal pool insured their
pardon, justification, and sanctification ; and on the strength of
this universal belief, multitudes lived an ungodly life, trusting
to the saving efficacy of baptism — to be administered in the last
hour !
Or again : our Lord sharply upbraids his disciples* for their
strange misunderstanding of his tropical language concerning the
' leaven ' of the scribes and pharisees, as if, forsooth, he had de
scended from heaven to establish moral distinctions between one
* Matt. xVi. 8—11.

430 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
sort of cake and another ! The things he had to do with were
the solemn realities of the spiritual and moral life. What dulness
of soul was that which could lead any to suppose that the Son of
God had come among men to inveigh against the use of pharisaic
yeast ! Where shall we look to find parallel instances of fatuity ?
no further than among those eminent doctors of the nicene .church,
who taught, or who led men to think of the sacramental bread —
the very bread, as if, by its intrinsic quality, it were exempt from
the action of the digestive juices, and, when swallowed, was
miraculously diffused through the body. And not only had this
consecrated morsel such properties when taken into the stomach,
but it had also power to ward off ills of every kind from hira who
reverently carried it about him ! How safe and happy were
those who, in comraitting theraselves to the angry deep, were
furnished with some atom of sacramental bread ! Let it be asked,
in candour, and with becoming seriousness, nay, let those who
fear God, put the question to their conscience — Whether they can
believe that the awful lips which indignantly condemned the
superstitious notions and practices of the Jew, would have blessed,
as pious and good, the parallel notions and practices of the nicene
church !
Neither the rabbis, nor the christian doctors, called in question
the first principles of morality or piety ; but both attributed so
much importance to what was merely ritual, as that the mass of
men did in fact pay an almost exclusive regard to the latter —
being always the easier and the cheaper mode of quieting the con
science. Now when we hear the ' Teacher sent from God,' sternly
and repeatedly reproving the formalism of the rabbis, shall we
yet allow ourselves to admire, and to re-enact so far as we can,
the formalism of the nicene doctors ? But an admiration and
imitation of nicene ritual notions and practices, is the very purport
and end of the now promulgated ' church principles.'
Our Lord follows up his several denunciations of formalism, by
foreshowing the final exclusion of those who made visible church
privfleges the ground of their confidence. — ' Many, I say unto
you, shall come from the east and from the west, and shall sit
down in the kingdom,' while the ' chfldren of the kingdom shall
be cast out.'

Christ's predictions A^D parabi.es.

431

It is, I believe, generaUy admitted that, while our Lord's
parables have a meaning which applies to the occasions of the
spiritual Ufe in individuals, they also, or most of them, carry a
latent meaning— and it must be a prophetic meaning, appficable
to the national and ecclesiastical relations of Christianity, through
the course of tirae. For example, whfle the apologue of the two
sons, the one prodigal and repentant, the other self-righteous, is
undoubtedly avaflable as an affecting illustration of the divine
placability toward the relenting sinner, it does also exhibit the
principle of the divine procedure toward the gentfle and the
Jewish churches.
And thus, there can be no room to doubt, the parables brought
together, as in a connected series, in the thirteenth chapter of
Matthew, (and the parallel places in the other Gospels) bear a
national and ecclesiastical, as well as a private and spiritual
meaning. So the parable of the tares in the field, and of the
grain of mustard seed, have ever heen interpreted. There can be
fittle hazard then in thus considering another parable, associated
with these, which, although from its singular beauty and in
structiveness as applied to the progress of piety in the heart, it
has been generaUy set apart to that use, is yet, not less than the
others, significant in its wider sense. ' So is the kingdom of
God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground, and should
sleep and rise, night and day, and the seed should spring and grow
up, he knoweth not how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of
herself, first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the
ear. But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth
in the sickle, because the harvest is come.'
In the often recurring agricultural allusions of the gospel
parables, the principal agent — the ' sower,' the ' husbandman,'
the master of the soil, or lord of the vineyard, is the Lord him
self; and so it is clearly, in the present instance. He who
' putteth in the sickle ' is the very same as he who ' casts the seed
into the ground.' No act is more distinctively that of the sove
reign and irresponsible power, than the final one of ' gathering
into the garner ;' and if the several places in the Gospels, and in
the Apocalypse, are considered where this same language occurs,
no doubt can be left as to its import in this place. At a first

432 the VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
glance indeed, some may suppose that the expressions — ' he should
sleep and rise,' while the plant is growing ' he knoweth not how,'
are incompatible with the supposition that the Lord himself is, in
this parable, the sower. But not so if we regard the well under
stood analogy of the tropical style of Scripture, In this, and
very many other places, the divine modes of proceeding are spoken
of anthropomorphously, and, particularly, the expression — to see,
or not to see, to hear, or not to hear, to know, or not to know,
are employed irrespectively of the absolute perfections of deity, as
if these could in any case, or in any sense, admit of limitation,
or be liable to exclusion : but the whole meaning of such phrases
may be otherwise conveyed in abstract circumlocutions, to this
effect — That, in the cases severally spoken of, God acts as men
do when they see, or do not see, hear, or do not hear, know, or do
not know. A rule of interpretation so obvious, and so often
referred to, need not have been mentioned in this place at all, if
it were not that, from a misapprehension (as it seems) of the true
purport of the parable, the theological notions of certain persons
oppose an obstacle to their reception of its special meaning.
Perhaps there is no one of our Lord's apologues of more
moment, or of wider application, than the one now in question.
What, in the best sense of the phrase, might be called — the
philosophy of church history, lies summarily contained within
these few sentences. I must, for my own part, profess the serious
conviction, that a true understanding of this single parable would
go far toward ridding us, at once and for ever, of the dangerous
illusion concerning the early church, with which at present we
have to do. At the same tirae it puts us into a true position, for
contemplating the rise and progress of romanism. Moreover, as
it seems to me, a just interpretation of this very parable furnishes
a solid, and the only effective reply that can be given to infidel
objections, derived, in the manner of Gibbon, from the colour of
church history : at the same time it supplies us with motives the
most impulsive, bearing upon our conduct individually, as the
guardians and depositaries of religious truth in the world.
In this, as in so many other instances, inextricable con
fusion and dangerous error must arise, unless we keep distinct
two things absolutely different in themselves, and yet too often

Christ's predictions and parables. 433
regard.e'3 as One and the sarae — I mean, on the one hand visible
CHRISTIANITY, OT the system of christian doctrines and practices,
existing, or established, in this and that country ; sometimes
giving direction to the course of events on the great stage of
affairs — sometiraes depressed, and confined within the narrowest
limits : — and on the other hand the True Church on earth, or
the aggregate of individuals, whether scattered or congregated,
whose hearts have been quickened from above, and whose dispo
sitions and conduct are actually governed by the genuine motives
of the Gospel; in a word, 'the children of God,' of whatever
name or communion. Now, clearly, it will be impracticable to
assign to this parable any sense, not manifestly at variance with
the first principles of sound theology, if it be assuraed to relate
to the spiritual and invisible church. To say that piety is nothing
more than a moral influence, working itself out from certain
religious opinions, by a natural process ; — to say this, or any thing
like it, is sheer socinianism ; or it is a mode of speaking with
which, in the present controversy, we have nothing to do. All
now concerned agree that true piety is the fruit of grace specially
imparted from above to the individual. Moreover, grace so ira-
parted, is watched over, augraented, and preserved from extinction,
by the very sarae sacred energy whence, at the first, it proceeded.
In relation therefore to the true and invisible church, it is not to
be granted that the seed is broad cast, and left to itself, to vegetate
where it may happen to faU, according to any natural principles
of germination and growth.
Furthermore, no interpretation is to be admitted in this instance,
such as would irapugn the doctrine of a particular providence,
overruling events, great and small, and governing, where least it
seems to govern, even in the midst of evfl, and tending always
toward a remote end, an end inscrutable to man, and known only
to the Infinite Mind. We therefore save two chief articles of
theology — the doctrine of special grace, and the doctrine of a par
ticular providence.
What the parable seems to intend is this (and it is hard to assign
to it any other meaning) that Christianity, as a systera of opinions,
and as a visible institute, and a law of association, or as a church,
having been coramitted to the sofl, has been left, from age to age,
a G

434 the VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
liable to the undisturbed operation of the ordinary laws of the
moral world. Like any other system of religion, it has made its
way — it has undergone corruptions — it has wrought its effect more
or less powerfully, in strict conformity with the existing energies,
good and bad, which affect human nature, human opinions, and the
social system. Yet with these differences ; namely, first, that the
visible intrinsic excellence of Christianity, as compared with any
other religious system, has imparted to it a force far more intense
than what any other religion has exerted ; and secondly, that the
existence, in each successive age, of a true church within the pale,
and under the surface of the visible church, has communicated a
still higher energy to the system, considered as a visible polity only.
So it is that the merely natural infiuence oi the Gospel, as a scheme
of opinions and moral precepts, will by no means suffice to account
for all the appearances ; and they will not do so because there
has been at work, at all times, a far more profound and efficacious
principle of feeling and action, in the bosoms of some.
We return then to the terms of this full-fraught apologue
— ' So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed
into the ground, and should sleep and rise, night and day, and the
seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the
earth bringeth forth fruit of lierself, first the blade,' &c. When
once the seed is sown, the husbandman has done his part, and has
only to ' wait with patience until the harvest :' the rain may
descend, or it may be withheld ; clouds may cover the sky at a
season when the genial warmth of the sun is the most needed :
a cutting east wind may blacken the blade ; and perhaps an
' enemy' may ' sow tares among the wheat ;' and yet, even in that
case, both must be left to grow together — ' until the harvest :' —
the husbandman wakes, aud sleeps, not unconcerned indeed in the
issue of these many changes ; but yet not called upon to inter
pose his own labours : the seed was good ; and the earth, according
to the energy imparted to it, and as acted upon by sunshine and
showers, must be left to ' bring forth the fruit of herself
An interpretation, such as this, may not accord with certain
notions which we have perhaps too easily entertained ; but before
it be rejected, let any one ask himself how many perplexities he has
struggled with, and how many painful conflicts of mind he has passed

Christ's predictions and parables 435
through, relating either to the general course of events in the
church at large, or to the welfare of particular institutions
or societies ; all which perplexities and conflicts have sprung
directly from such notions, and in which, as much is assumed
which is never found to be realized, the disappointment distracts
the soul ; or is as ' a hope deferred, which maketh the heart
sick.' The interpretation we may adopt of this one parable, involves
a principle which should either send us home ashamed, to the
bosom of the romish church, or otherwise greatly confirm us in
our protestantism. The romish church (and with it all who now
profess ' nicene church principles') distinctly professes herself to
have enjoyed, from age to age, as a visible corporation the
benefit of a miraculous superintendence, and an effective presence
of the divine power and spirit ; and this pretension, if it be
acknowledged, implies a condemnation of separation (and of pro
testantism) under any circumstances whatsoever, as nothing better
than flagrant impiety ; — nay, such an open rebellion against
heaven itself as excludes all hope of salvation : for it is clearly a
sinning against the Holy Ghost.
Now let it be observed that a pretension such as this, bold and
self-consistent as it is, must, in the nature of the case, be sub
mitted to whole, or must be rejected whole : there is no place for
a mean. If we come to inquire, in detail, concerning the practices
or dogmas of romanism, and in doing so, find this or that to be
idolatrous, blasphemous, cruel, corrupt, and if we find any capital
fault with the worship, the poUty, the doctrine of Rome, then do
we, at the same time, virtually deny the assumption that God —
the God of truth, has been specially with the papacy, guiding,
guarding, and holding her pure. And when we have gone so far
as this, it will be difficult to stop short of the belief that she is
apostate, and abominable. But mark what follows. — If we thus
deny to the church of Rome, the special divine presence which
she claims for herself, and if, on the contrary, we condemn her as
false in doctrine, idolatrous in worship, and crueUy despotic in
government ; then do we involve the earUer, that is, the nicene
church, in the very same condemnation, inasmuch as the difference
between the earlier and the later system attaches to circumstantials
0 02

436 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
only, not to elementary principles. And then, having carried
the denial of a special divine presence in the visible church
so high, we shall find it impracticable to make a lodgement for
any such claim, untfl we reach the firm ground of that un
questioned miraculous interposition which authenticated tiie
ministry of the Apostles.
Now our modern professors of ' church principles,' who stfll
maintain their separation from Rome, are liable to this dilemma.
— The ancient church, unless its usages and doctrines ought to be
screened from examination by the supposition of a continued and
extraordinary divine superintendence, is plainly open in many
points, and equally so with the romish church, to the most serious
reprehension, as superstitious, corrupt, and pernicious, in no
trivial degree : — if we are to inquire at all concerning these ancient
practices and opinions, and are to compare them with Scripture,
then they must be condemned, if the very same practices and
opinions, as professed by the church of Rome, are to be con
deraned. But if they are not either to be examined, or dealt with
freely, on the ground of our better understanding of Scripture,
then such an exemption can only be drawn from a theory of
divine interposition, essentially the same as that which is assumed
by the papacy. This theory, however, ought to carry us home at
once to the papacy itself. Either the nicene church and the
romish were together corrupt ; or they are together infallible.
Otherwise stating the same alternative : — nicene church principles
and practices cannot be defended (such is the acknowledgment
of their admirers) simply on the ground of scriptural warrant.
If defended at all, it must be on the plea that the Lord was so
with the visible church, governing its course, and changing its
usages, from age to age, as that, even when these had become the
most unlike apostolic usages, they should yet be regarded as
authoritative. But if so, then how is it that we have dared to break
off from Rome ? Who is it that professes to have heard the
awful words pronounced, at any time, in the church, jieTajial-
viojxey ivTtvdev ? or if actually pronounced, who shall fix the day
and hour ?
But now let us review the history of visible Christianity, under
the guidance of the broad principle of the parable, as above inter-

Christ's predictions and parables.

437

preted.— The seed was sown ; a doctrine in purity and efficacy'
infinitely surpassing any system of theology, or phflosophy, which
the human mind had, or has since conceived, together with a
system of morals becoming its heavenly origin, was widely pro
mulgated. Under the superintendence, and by the direct agency
of men miraculously taught and endowed, this word of truth was
at once carried out, by personal teaching, into all countries, and
consigned to writing. During the continuance of the supernatural
apostolic dispensation, Christianity was so sown throughout the
extent of the roman world, and even beyond its limits, as to
exempt it from the hazard of extinction by any local endeavours
to crush it. Moreover, the sacred influence in the hearts of
multitudes, in the apostofic age, was such as to compel the world
to render to the Gospel a reluctant testimony of admiration ; so
that while the doctrine was revfled, its adherents were revered.
Before the death of the last surviving inspired teacher, Christianity
had struck its roots deep into the soil of every country between
the Euphrates and the Atlantic ocean. Within the same period
the apostolic writings and Gospels, sufficiently discerned from
among spurious compositions, had come into all hands, and con
stituted in all churches the admitted authority, or ultimate rule of
christian faith and practice.
All this must surely be regarded as a copious ' sowing of the
word ;' and what is the plain fact — That, notwithstanding the
most strenuous, continued, and often repeated endeavours of
the roman government to extirpate this doctrine, hy the ill
treatment and slaughter of its adherents, and hy the destruction
of the sacred writings, it was at no time really near to being lost ;
and that it publicly triumphed, earlier than could have been sup
posed, over its enemy, the pagan roman power, and so became
the recognised religion of the western world. Then, again, not
withstanding the devastation of Europe by fierce idolatrous hordes,
and notwithstanding the decay, and almost the extinction of civili
zation, notwithstanding the supervention of a horrid idolatry,
cafling itself christian, notwithstanding every kind of ill chance,
if we might so speak, Christianity has done much more than
survive ; it has, in modern times, burst forth anew, the inspired
writings having been restored to the place of authority due to

438 the visible church — according to
them ; while a wider, and a more rapid spread of its principles is
taking place, than at any preceding era. The ' sowing,' then, has
actually fulfilled its purpose : the ¦ earth ' has received the seed ;
which, though uprooted or blighted in particular spots, has sprung
up, over the breadth of the field ; first the blade, and then
the ear.
Now this sowing, and its consequence, from age to age, is all
that the parable indicates, in relation to Christianity as a visible
system, and as a polity. Whatever spiritual influences may, in
all times, have been imparted to individual bosoms, and no doubt
multitudes in even the darkest ages have thus been endowed with
grace from on high, yet has He who at first sowed the seed, left
the earth to bring forth of herself, according to her inherent
energies ; Himself, in regard to visible Christianity, holding off, to
wait for the harvest — ' sleeping and rising, night and day,' while
the doctrine and the institute is growing ' he knoweth not how :'
that is to say, irrespectively of any direct interpositions on his
part. But we may apply our exposition to a few remarkable
instances, in order to see how far it accords with, or is disproved
by, actual facts in the history of Christianity. Every one who is
conversant with the literary remains, grecian, roman, rabbinical,
of the apostolic age, will grant that the canonical epistles are not
more distinguished from all other writings of that time, by the
sublime doctrine they announce, or the pure morality they incul
cate, than they are by that sobriety of judgment, calmness, and
discretion, which marks them, one and all : — this same rare
quality, moreover, indicating, as it does, the tranquil self-posses
sion of the writers, is to be thought of in reference, at once to
the education and habits of the men themselves, to the high
religious excitement which belonged to the revelation they were
announcing, and to the agitation of spirit produced by perpetual
perils, and cruel treatment. Yet, notwithstanding so many
causes of disturbance, we find no traces of hurried judgments in
their practical decisions, no bitterness or acrimony, no wild
extravagance, and no imbecility. The calm temper, and the
invariable good sense, which characterize the inspired writers
of the New Testament (tho circumstances of these writers
considered) may, as I think, justly be appealed to as one of the

Christ's predictions and parables. 439
most conclusive evidences of the alleged fact, that they wrote
and acted under a divine guidance, and that the wisdom by
which they spoke and wrote, was, ' not their own,' but in a direct
and extraordinary manner, given them ' from above.' Thus what
in one sense, is the most natural in the apostolic writings, offers
itself (under the circumstances) as the best proof of a supernatural
agency. Ought we not to acknowledge the spirit and presence of the
Lord in the calm consistency of the apostofic writings ? But now
the moment when we step off from this sacred ground, what is it
that meets us? What are the foremost characteristics of the
writings (venerable as they may be on many accounts) which
stand next in chronological order, as we pass forward from the
canon of Scripture ? I suppose it will be granted by all persons
of any intelligence and candour, that the collection of writings
bearing the names of the good men called the ' apostolic fathers,'
is strikingly deficient in those very qualities of manly energy,
sound judgment, calmness of temper, and practical discretion,
which distinguish the canonical epistles. These early bishops and
martyrs (most conspicuous and unquestionable is the fact) did
not enjoy any supernatural guidance, such as that which had pre
served their immediate predecessors from falling into absurdities,
or from wandering into extravagance. Even if it could be proved
that the mantie of miraculous power rested upon their shoulders,
enabling them to raise the dead, yet their extant writings are so
many tangible proofs, raore conclusive than any testimony, that,
in knowledge and understanding they were hardly better than the
weakest and the least judicious among ourselves.*
* The mere fact that certain vrtitings, the characteristic qualities of which
none can call in question, have been handed down to us, serves to attach those
characteristics, more or less conclusively, to the men of the age in which they
were- produced, and by whom they were accepted, and selected from the mass
of contemporary works. Now, if we grant that the pastoral epistles of the
early martyr bishops would, from a sort of ex-officio value, how small soever
might be their intrinsic merits, be so selected and transmitted, this exemption
cannot apply to works possessing no such ecclesiastical importance. Suppose
then we were to consider the epistles of the apostolic fathers (bishops) as
evidence of nothing more than of the pious fervour, and weakness of judg-'
ment of the individual writers. These epistles vfere sure to be held in esteem,
whatever might be thought of their intrinsic value ; and we must take them

440 the visible church — according to
Now, must it not be granted that, if it had really consisted with
the divine methods of procedure toward the Church, to grant any
extraordinary aid whatsoever to those who succeeded the
Apostles in the government of the infant and beleaguered society,
the gift of sound judgment, and calm practical discretion, would
have been of not less avail — not less to be desired, than the power
of working miracles ? Nothing seemed to be so urgently needed
by the first christian churches, inexperienced as they were, and
heterogeneous in their composition, and exposed to the most
extraordinary trials — nothing so much as soundness of judg
ment — a wisdom which, as is proved by their writings, the
Apostles did actuaUy possess. But how was it with their irarae-
diate successors ? No christian literature, of any age, is raore
sadly deficient in vigorous good sense, and apostolic wisdom, than
the writings of the apostolic fathers. Who does not admire the
simple fervour which breathes in some of these venerable remains ?
or who does not sicken at the proofs he therein meets with of
extreme imbecility of judgment? Is not the general truth, in
this instance, forced upon our assent, that He who had sowed the
seed, did then leave it in the earth, not so interposing as to
exempt the institution, as a system of opinions and practices,
from the operation of the surrounding and ordinary moral and
natural causes ? The seed germinated Jndeed with luxuriant
vigour, but yet according to the quafities of the soil into which
it had fallen ; "and moreover, as the field itself lay within the
domain of an adversary, it happened (what else could have been
supposed ?) that ' while men slept ' the enemy ' sowed tares '
profusely ' among the wheat.'
I must then profess to consider the extant writings of the
apostolic fathers as so many historic evidences, definite and irre-
as evidence only that the leaders of the Church, in that early age, were not
men of powerful understanding, or ripened judgment ; and that they were not
raised above themselves by supernatural endowments. But what are we to
say to a book such as the ' Shepherd ' of Hermas, universally admired by the
early church, read in churches, and nearly associated with the canonical scrip
ture, and often quoted in proof of doctrines ? Let those read this book who
would fairly estimate the intelligence, and discretion, or, the taste of its early
•admirers. We should add, however, that it was held in much less repute by
the Latin than by the Greek church : liber revera utilis, says Jerome, sed
apud Latinos peae ignotus est. (Catalog.)

Christ's predictions and parables. 441
fragable in themselves, and utterly irreconcilable with the theory
on which the papacy, and church principles, rest, namely that the
church, after the apostolic age (or even during that age, any further
than the direct influence of inspired persons extended) enjoyed any
extraordinary aid, or was preserved from the errors, follies, and
vices that are incident to humanity. Unless we are resolved to
go all lengths of credulity, and have already subscribed ourselves
among the most submissive adherents of church principles, we
must allow that proofs of the want of apostolic wisdom, humble
sobriety, and godly simplicity, thicken upon us as we advance on
the course of time ; and especially must it be acknowledged that
the subsequent accession, to the service of the Church, of men of
eminent ability and extensive learning and knowledge of the
world, was not attended with any proportionate increase of that
sobriety of understanding which then appeared to be especially
needed. From the early part of the third century, onward to the
end of the fourth, Christianity drew to itself the best and most
accomplished minds of the tiraes. No men (of those times) were
better learned, none were more eloquent than were many of the
bishops and orators of the Church ; and yet to none of them —
not to one, appears to have been granted that very spirit of in
genuous wisdom, which was then peculiarly needed for calling
the Church to a timely reconsideration of her ways and notions.
On the contrary, and as if the enemy himself had enlisted every
distinguished mind in his special service — every eminent man of
that critical era, lent his utmost endeavours to the work of urging
forward what should have been checked and repressed, and whfle
struggling to correct certain palpable abuses, yet every one
fomented the very principles, and cherished the institutions,
whence, fnanifestly, those abuses had sprung.
In following the history of the times (in its original materials)
one is fain frequently to exclaim, ' Oh that wisdom and candour
had been granted, if only to one of these great men, impefling
him to sound the alarm, from east to west, and to challenge his
brethren to consider whither they were tending.' No one, surely,
but an avowed romanist (and I really believe not every romanist)
would now profess to think that the fast accumulating super
stitions of the fourth century, such as those connectfid with tl)e

442 THE VISIBLE CHURCH— ACCORDING TO
invocation of saints, the regard paid to relics and tombs, and
pilgrimages, and the idolatry of the sacramental elements, did not
need some reproof. Yet in fact, the leading persons of the
Church, if two or three feeble remonstrances are excepted, did not
reprove them : ordinarfly they promoted them with their utmost
endeavours : and when these very superstitions were at length
quietly called in question by one and another of inferior rank, the
ecclesiastical chiefs combined to crush the dissidents with the
most intemperate zeal. The Church was anew shoved forward,
by the herculean shoulders of its most eminent men, toward the
abyss of idolatry and spiritual infatuation. Taking our stand
then in the fourth century, and thence looking forward to what
was to come about in the east and in the west during the three
foUowing centuries, we surely cannot believe that the natural
tendency of things was at that time averted, or checked by any
kind of interposition from above. Let this instance be distinctly
considered — If we approve generally of the rites and notions of
the fourth century, we ought not to dissent from Rome : if we
disapprove of them, and think them to have been of fatal tendencj',
then we must allow that the visible church was left to itself at that
time, until the cup of spiritual pollution was full to the brim.
Or, to take the very instructive instance of Augustine — an
instance which seems to exemplify the laws of the divine govern
ment in regard to the Church. — Whatever may be thought of the
personal piety of some to whom more respect is usually paid, as
authorities, every one surely must allow this eminent man to
have been a fervent and a heavenly minded christian. That
grace which prevafls over nature, rendering whoever receives it
a ' new creature in Christ Jesus,' shone in him conspicuously ; and
his devotional writings come home to the heart of every spiritually
minded reader. Augustine, himself a member of the true church,
became, by his writings, a father to many in that mystic body,
and who shall say to how many souls, in succeeding ages, he has
imparted the aliment of life ? In this eminent instance then it is
clear (as in many others) that the Lord was still with his Church,
supplying ' grace for grace,' to his people ; and, through the gifts
bestowed upon one, cherishing the spiritual life of many. But
now if we look at the very same eminent man as a teacher and

Christ's predictions and parables. 443
leader of the visible CHURCH, it becomes manifest that the
Lord's promise to be with his people included no provision which
should secure it, even in the most critical conjunctures, from fatal
mistakes. On this ground we find other principles to be in opera
tion ; those namely which are symbolized in the parable. — He
who had sown Christianity over the world, as a system of opinions
and as a visible corporation, ' slept and rose, night and day,'
leaving it to make its progress 'he knew not how,' that is, uncon
trolled by direct interpositions.
No one moment in the history of the Church can be named
raore fearfully critical than that which was reached at the tirae
when the bishop of Hippo stood before Christendom in the
prime and vigour of his religious course. The fate of Europe —
the refigious and political condition of the western nations, during
centuries, was then trembling on the point between an abyss of
ignorance and anarchy, and a possible renovation. None but
romanists will deny that the Church, at the comraencement of the
fifth century, had gone far upon the road of (to say the very least)
perilous superstitions. Augustine himself* acknowledges this,
and laments, when his better reason prevafled, the exuberance of
ceremonies, and the intolerable load of dead formalities then
threatening to suffocate all genuine piety. There was, at this
time, a downward rush toward all those follies and abuses which

* If my narrow limits permitted, I would gladly make large quotations from
Augustine's two Epistles to Januarius, (Epist. lib. i. epist. 54, 55) to which
however I beg to refer the reader : they are peculiarly significant in reference
to the temper and practices of the times. The churches were so overloaded
with ceremonies that the condition of the Jewish people in this respect was
' more tolerable ' than that of christians ; and yet Augustine, feeling as he did,
not merely the weight of the load, but its ill tendency, instead of boldly going
back, at once, to the apostolic rule, and arguing from the spirit and intention
of that rule (Gal. iv. 9 — 11) so leaves the door open to superstition, that
no bar was placed in the way of foolish and mischievous innovations ; nor in
fact was any effective endeavour made to rid the churches of these encum
brances. Augustine seems, once and again, to be approaching a faithful
protest against the formalism- and will- worship of the universal church, and
yet he draws back, terrified at the possibility, as it seems, of being ranked by
his high church friends, among the hated and persecuted remonstrants.
Another;opportunity will present itself for showing, in particular instances, to
what lengths this great and good man went in sanctioning the most dangerous
superstitions of his times.

44 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
rendered Christianity an object of contempt to the saracen con
querors of the next century. Yet was there, at the same time,
a rising movement toward reform. The question of apostolic
simplicity in matters of observance, was moved ; more than two
or three raised a remonstrant voice against the frauds, abuses,
and iUusions of the age. This remonstrance, had it been listened
to as it deserved, and entertained in a humble and christian
temper, to what happy reforms might it not have led ? Had
there been found, among the principal churchmen of that age, a
common measure of discretion, or humility, and practical wisdom,
a timely check might have been given to the natural progress of
this mass of errors ; yes, and the papacy, and its sanguinary
history, might have been cut short, and pure Christianity once
again sent out through the world ! And who better than Augus
tine might have led this early reformation, commanding as he did,
by his piety and talents, the respectful regards of Christendom,
and himself possessing, beyond any of his contemporaries whose
writings have come down to us, a true feeling in theology. It
remained only, that, in a tone of christian meekness and wisdom,
he should have entered upon a mild parley with the remon
strants. He might well have made himself the interpreter of
their principles, and have taken up their argument. In one
word he might have thrown himself ingenuously upon the inspired
rule of faith, challenging the Church to follow him in the path of
a sincere return to apostolic authority. Thousands, on all hands,
it is probable, would have responded joyfully to such a challenge.
There was, as is evident, a latent, yet powerful feeling of impa
tience under the weight of human inventions : men groaned
beneath the load, and waited only for a voice which should have
bid them throw it aside. Oh that it had been whispered to
Augustine, at that dark moment, to think, and speak, and act, as
a true father of the Church I A wise religious reform, at that
moment, must have renovated Europe, socially and politically :
it could not but have imparted a moral force to the western
nations, enabling them to repel the barbaric hordes ; and would at
the same time have given to each community the internal vigour,
requisite for constituting itself irrespectively of the dissolving
empire. And how shall we estimate the religious consequences

Christ's predictions and PAftABLps. 445
of a return, at that time, to the Christianity of the New Testa
ment? Fruitiess regrets are these ! Augustine, the hope — the last
hope of his times, joined hands with the besotted bigots around
hira who would Usten to no reproofs ; — he raised his voice among
the most intemperate, to drown remonstrance. Superstition,
and spiritual despotism, illusion, knavery, and abject formalism,
received a new warrant from the high seat of influence which he
occupied : the church drove its chariot, with mad haste, down
the steep, and thenceforward nothing marks its history but
blasphemy, idolatry, and blood ! The popery which even now
is gathering over our heavens from all quarters, is little else than
the digested superstition which the good Augustine set forward
in his day.
Whatever other instance we might select, the inference will, I
think, be the sarae — naraely, that the Church, meaning thereby
the visible system, has been left, frora age to age (if the phrase
will not be misunderstood) to its fate, among other systems,
exposed to the east wind, and to the north wind — liable to
droughts and to hurricanes, to blights and to mildews ; and
that, while vitally benefited by grace imparted to individuals,
and externally benefited by the incomparable excellence of its
theology and morals, it has never been what the theory of the
papacy supposes it to have been always ; or what the scheme of
church principles assumes it to have heen down to the middle of
the fifth century.
And yet, in perfect consistency with protestant principles,
we may look on the other side of this dark-coloured tissue, and
thence derive comfort in regard to our faith in the divine govern
ment. — One kind of consolation, and it is sufficient, connected
with a review of church history, is drawn from the recollection
that the true church — the company of the faithful — the mystic
body, has never fafled, whatever evils might abound in the visible
church ; but another sort of consolation remains to us in review
ing the course of events, as parts of the great scheme of human
AFFAIRS. True it is that the ecclesiastical system of the sixth
century, if compared with apostolic Christianity, deserves the
most decisive reprobation : barely can it claim to be called —

440 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
Christianity. And yet, when this mass of superstition is regarded
in relation to the paganism which it had supplanted, the horrid
usages it had put down, or the ferocious northern teraper which
it tamed, who will not admire the plain indications of a benign
interposition, mitigating evils which were not to be averted, and
making provision for the transmission, to a better age, of the
elements of natural and religious truth, which otherwise must
have utterly perished : the deluge was indeed to come ; but an
ark was provided.
Thus too, those very establishments, and that same ascetic
doctrine, which, as related to pure christian principles and raorals,
we wholly condemn ; when viewed on another side, and in relation
to the lawless violence, the confusion, the anarchy, and the gross
sensuality and ferocity of those ages of barbarism, we must regard
gratefully ; — gratefully, in a religious sense, as instances of that
economy of mercy which marks the divine government of the
world. Terrible evils are permitted to exist, and to hold their
sway, during long periods ; nevertheless there are means of relief,
there are assuagements, there are places of asylum, and cities of
refuge ; — there is ever a balm, a medicine, a redemption, included
in the divinely governed economy of human affairs.
In this view then, we return once more to the broad import of
our Lord's parable. Taking it as in analogy with that of the ' grain
of mustard seed,' and as referring to visible Christianity, we
may trace its application to the course of events, through eighteen
centuries. —
The seed sown over all the roman fleld, quickly sprang up, and
how cheering was the greenness of true virtue, beneficence, and
meek wisdom, which suddenly brightened the face of the wilder
ness ! ' First the blade ' — that is to say, a grateful moral verdure
and beauty, full of promise. But the religion of Christ, con
sidered as a visible institute, and as related to other religious
systems and to civil polities, was to become fruitful : it was not
to remain a mere system of opinions, or moral rule : it was to
overpass all institutes, to survive all existing polities, and, in
the end, to be the only religion, and the only pofity: for all the
kingdoms ofthe world shall, at the last, become visibly the king
doms of Christ, so that the universal empire which was once offered

Christ's predictions and parables. 447
to Messiah in mockery hy Satan, shall be conferred in truth by
him who hath, in his eternal counsel, ' set his king on his holy
hfll.' ' Then the ear.' — A tangible promise of the future visible
triumph of Christianity, was given when imperial Rome, herself
mistress of the world, threw off her paganism, bowed to Christ,
and placed his doctrine and law where they should ever be, by
the side of the throne. The public triumph of the Gospel under
Constantine and his successors, whatever incidental evils may have
resulted from it, should be regarded as the ' earing ' of this ' plant
of renown.'
' Then the full corn in the ear.' — The gradual development
(comraenced at the reforraatlon) of the genuine principle of
national RELIGIOUS EXISTENCE, which is just uow Struggling
through its crisis, as well of argument as of political strife, but is
destined to make its way, shall be understood at length, and
gratefuHy acknowledged and submitted to as the true and only
foundation of just, peaceful, beneficent, and permanent govern
ment : then shall ' the meek inherit the earth.'
The argument intended to be drawn from this parable (a key
parable it might be called) may thus be summed up — That ' He
who soweth the seed ' is the Lord himself, and not any of his
ministers, appears from the attribution of the sovereign and final
act to the sarae party ; — it is He who putteth in the sickle ; and
especially must we think so when this particular phrase is con
sidered where it occurs in other places of Scripture. — That the
parable, in its principal sense at least, relates to the church and
doctrine of Christ as visible and as cognizable by all men, and
not to the true church and the spiritual economy, appears from
the terras under which its progress is spoken of ;— ' it groweth, he
knoweth not how,' by the energies of the 'earth' which receives
it, and while he who has sown it sleeps, and wakes, waiting pas
sively the time when the field of the worid shall be yellow to the
harvest. Now, while the changing condition of visible Chris
tianity in the worid from age to age, is doubtiess, along with all
other institutes, systems of opinions, social interests, and events,
great and small, good and evfl, under the exact control of the
Supreme Will and Wisdora, yet the parable, as weU as the manifest

448 THE visible church — ACCORDING TO
colour of church history, excludes the supposition that the Church
visible has been, at any time or in any degree, exempted from the
operation of the various natural and political influences that have
borne upon it. — Consequently, and as a mere matter of history,
we find the visible Christianity of each age to have been what
its relative position was likely to have made it ; and while it
modified and ameliorated whatever it was mingled with, it was
itself modified, and, because intrinsically holier than any thing
else on earth, and therefore incapable of amendment from any
source, it was modified for the worse, or corrupted, by its contact
with systems of philosophy, with national manners, with political
institutes. The romanist consistently claims infallibility for his church
(either in a wider or more restricted sense) on the very principle
that the Lord has, by his vicar, the bishop of Rome, or by coun
cils, sat permanently in his church — the visible church, miracu
lously exempting her from all error, and adapting her practices
and professions to the changing circumstances of each succeeding
period, by direct legislative and authoritative interpositions ; so
as that whenever the visible organ of this authority has been left
to the uncontrolled exercise of its powers, its decisions, in any
age, are of equal authority with those of the Apostles, or of the
canon of Scripture. All this is consistent and homogeneous. On
no lower ground is it possible to sustain the papacy : — and no
lower ground is ever taken.
But when (consistent) protestants attempt to try this beautiful
theory by its necessary consequences, they find it impossible to
do any thing else but utterly reject it as a baseless and pernicious
delusion. For not only is the visible romish church found to have
contradicted herself, in signal instances ; but she has, in the most
deliberate, solemn, and legitimate manner, enjoined, encouraged,
and practised, that which every feeling of humanity abhors, as
corrupt, abominable and cruel, and which violently outrages the
clearest principles and precepts of God's written will. This
theory therefore, compromising as it does reason and Scripture,
we reject; and, as a necessary consequence of rejecting it, we
attach NO authoritative value whatever, as if they were
divinely sanctioned, to the notions or practices of any visible

CHRIST S PREDICTIONS ANB PARABLES.

449

church, in any age, from first to last. Whenever good men have
said and done right things, we love to listen to them, and, so far,
to tread in their steps : — this is the extent of our deference to an
tiquity. But when we find unquestionable evidence that the
Church, at the moment when the Apostles disappeared, was no
longer guided by the Spirit of wisdom ; and, on the contrary, that
it gave itself to seductions, and that it rapidly took the course of
superstition and formalism, we listen, even to what may be right
in itself, with extreme caution, and we resent, as equally foolish
and mischievous, that antiquarian servility, and that sentimental
pietism, which would impel us to imitate and re-enact what was,
in its tirae, barely tolerable, and which would now be ineffably
absurd, as well as pernicious.
The romanist is consistent, but not so the separatist from Rome,
who professes church principles ; for his endeavour to revive the
servfle observances of a purblind age, to wit the nicene, assumes
the theory that the Church had then the benefit of an extraordinary
guidance ; in other words, that it was not left to its own discretion,
— indiscretion, and that it did not undergo the deterioration which
protestants aUege against.it. Unless so screened frora examina
tion and rebuke by the supposition of a continued extraordinary
presence, the notions and practices of the nicene church are
cieariy conderanable, as flagrantly opposed to Scripture ; but if
there were any such extraordinary interposition, then who is to
say why it was withdrawn in the sixth, or seventh century, or
later, or when it totally ceased ? Otherwise, what is the precise
ground of our separation from Rome? Is it her corruptions?
Nay, the nicene church was corrupt, and in the very same
instances. Is it her more recent corruptions, which are afleged to
be greater and- more serious ? but who is to be the judge of
' greater' or ' less,' in such matters ? You may think it a great
corruption to teach the people to pray to the Virgin, beseeching
her to 'act the mother' toward her Son. We think it a great
corruption to pray to St. Lawrence, or to St. Thomas, or to St.
Cyprian, as the nicene divines were used to do ; nor should we
care to separate from Rome, on account of the former species of
impiety, if we did not feel ourselves compeUed utteriy to reject the
authority of the nicene church, on account of the latter species of
H H

450 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
impiety ; nor do we trouble ourselves to make nice distinctions
between the one shade of blasphemous presumption, and the
other ; and fully do we believe that the Lord has ever regarded
both with equal indignation.
The parable then, as we interpret it, bears us clear of all
embarrassments ; for it denies the Lord to have so been with any
set of men, saving the Apostles, as to have imparted any more than
an ordinary human value to their religious opinions, or practices.
What they believed, and what they did, we compare with the
WRITTEN RULE : upou this, the Inspired Law, we fall hack : —
this law is the law of protestantism ; and between protestantisra
and romanism, if men understand what they are doing, there can
be no middle ground, no room for comproraise, no christian cora-
munion or religious alliance, and no bond — other than that of
the charity which, toward men individually, hopeth whatever may
be hoped, and shows meekness and benevolence to all, whether
Jews, Turks, papists or infidels.

' Think not that I am come to send peace on the earth ; I
came not to send peace, but a sword.' ' I am come to send fire
on the earth.' (Matt. x. 34 ; Luke xii. 49.)
These words, if considered apart from their connexion, and
irrespectively of any regard to the temper and intention of the
Gospel, might be understood in Mahomet's sense ; or as equivalent
to his bold declaration that God had empowered him to propagate
the true faith by the sword. And such too is the interpretation
which has actuafly been put upon the passage by the church of
Rome. — Peter told his master that he had provided two swords,
and the Lord said, ' it is enough ;' that is to say, the spiritual and
the secular sword should both be at the command of the Church,*
and when they are so— 'It is enough. 'j- The Church, however,
¦" S. Bernard, De Consideratione, lib. iv. c. 3, while claiming the two swords
for the Church, yet recommends his disciple, pope Eugenius, to return the
iron sword to its sheath.
t Unde cum spiritualis et materialis gladius mutuo se debeant adjuvare,
juxta qiiod legitur, Ecce gladii duo bic. Innocent IIL tom. ii. p. 79. ... Si
necesse fuerit, per principes et populum eosdem (hsereticos) facias virtute mate
rialis gladii coerceri. Tom. i. p. 44. This meek successor of St. Peter, whose

CHRIST S PREDICTIONS AND PARABLES.

451

not finding even the two altogether sufflcient for her occasions,
has added the torments of fire ; thus understanding the prediction
— ' I am come to send fire on the earth,' as including a warrant
to the Church for exterminating heresy by the most terrible of all
means. In the sense of the church of Rome (and this point of
analogy well deserves to be noted) Christ and Mahomet stand
before mankind on the very same ground, as demanding sub
mission to their faith and law at the peril of death : — death by
the scimitar, says the latter, death by the sword or burning, says
the former.
But what are we to think of such an interpretation when it
comes to be compared with the general character of the christian
morality, or with the uniform purport of our Lord's discourses
to his disciples, whom he prepares, by various motives, not for
inflicting pains and death, but for bearing both ? ' Fear not
thera which kill the body;' — 'he that loseth his life for my sake
shall find it ;' — ' ye shall be brought before governors and kings
for my sake.'* Has then the church of Rome, in her profes
sions and practice rightly, or wrongly, interpreted our Lord's
declaration, that he came to send a sword and fire upon earth ?
are we to think with Rome and the Koran, on this point ? But
if not with either, then, when we see Rorae, century after cen
tury, distinctly professing the doctrine of persecution, and acting
adroitness in quoting and expounding Scripture is remarkable, very frequently
avails himself of the incident here referred to in the gospel narrative, when he
is urging princes to exterminate heretics and their abettors. The decretals of
Gregory IX., under the title, De Htereticis, exhibit in detail the temper and
principles of the papacy, at the time when its proper nature most freely dis
played itself. Those who had come under the mere suspicion of heresy, unless
they could fully clear themselves, were to be visited with anathemas, and the
sword ; and princes, failing to exterminate heretics, were to be excommuni
cated, and their states put under interdict, p. 1614. All this is well known ;
and yet the church founded upon, and maintaining, the mahometan doctrine
of propagating the faith by the sword, we are told is yet Christ's true church;
while of those who, from age to age, have suffered in remonstrating against its
errors, it is barely permitted to hope that they can be saved 1 And it is pro
testant clergymen who use this language ! Selections from Innocent III. and
Gregory IX. might, I think, with great advantage, be given to the English
public at the present moment.
* Luke ix. 5-1!- 50, would alone be sufficient for the condemnation of the
romish church, in its endeavour to justify its sanguinary principles, and to
excuse the burning of heretics.
hh2

452 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
upon this profession, and iramolating millions of men on the
strength of it, ought we to think ourselves free to hold it as a
doubtful question, whether this sanguinary power, a power more
sanguinary in fact and in principle than any other that the
world has ever seen — whether it he the Lord's ally, and repre
sentative, and true church ; or whether it be his enemy, and the
enemy of his church ? If the latter, then where was the Lord's
church through those centuries of massacre and burning? can we
find the Lord's people any where, but among the sufferers, who,
in adherence to the authority of Scripture, protested (let us
mark it) not so much against the papal tyranny, as against the
very practices and opinions which the romish church had in
herited, entire, from the nicene church ! This fact is the hinge
of our argument.
I urge the conscientious reader to bring himself to a choice,
once for all, in this alternative. Let him take what instance
he pleases from the history of the Waldenses, or of the commu
nities of Languedoc, or of the Lollards, or of the followers of
Wickliffe, or of Huss. In all these cases our Lord's prediction
was awfully fulfilled in the sword, the fire, the cruel domestic
hatreds, the tortures, the suffering to death, which attended the
controversy concerning the nicene superstitions. On which party,
then, did the Lord look with favour, as having rightly understood
his will ? Was it the inflictors of death and torture, or the
victims, that he regarded as his true disciples, and his church ?
Grant it, that some few of his people might, by error, have ranged
themselves on the wrong side ; but broadly spoken of, was Christ's
church on the inflicting side, or on the suffering side of the line
which divided the two parties ? Let none give his verdict, in
this instance, without looking well to the consequences thence
inevitably following. If the cruel and sanguinary papacy is to be
accounted as the Lord's enemy, and not his church, and if the
sufferers were his people, are we nevertheless prepared to say
that, although the papacy was wrong in persecuting, and the
sufferers right, so far, in suffering, yet that, as to the questions at
issue, the papacy was in the right, and the sufferers were in the
wrong ? That is to say, — Christ's people all in error, and Christ's
enemies possessed of the truth ! Is this what we mean ? If not.

Christ's predictions and parables. 453
and if we find it impossible to acknowledge any thing else than
that the papacy was, in an equal degree, horrid in its practices,
and corrupt in its doctrines, then it follows, that the earlier church,
even including a remote age, although it had not the power, nor
altogether the will, to be sanguinary, was only in minor points
less corrupt in its doctrine. Nor does this general statement do
full justice to the facts ; for the very points of quarrel between the
papacy and the suffering remonstrants were those in respect of
which the nicene church had been the most jealous and decisive.
The quarrel was the same controversy concerning wifl worship,
continued from Jerome's time to the reformation ; and the doc
trine and worship of the dominant party has heen transmitted,
without a break, from the earliest to the latest representatives of
that party ; nor has any thing changed, in all this tirae, except
the power and resources of the persecuting body, and its temper
— just so far as the free exercise of tyranny affects the disposi
tions of the tyrant.
Whoever then, at this moment, goes over to the nicene church,
approving its characteristic notions and practices, makes himself,
so far, one with a body, which, subsisting through a long course
of ages, unbroken, unchanged in principle or temper or worship,
has, whenever it could do so, adopted Mahomet's sense of the
words — ' I am come to send, not peace, but a sword upon the
earth.'

We should not omit to notice, in passing, our Lord's explicit
caution (John vi. 63) against that very misunderstanding of his
tropical style which the nicene theologians so fatally fell into.
After having spoken, in his wonted manner — the very boldness of
which might have precluded mistake— of his flesh and blood, as
given for the life of the world, he subjoins — ' It is the spiritual
meaning (Middleton) not the letter, or Uteral sense, that conveys
a quickening efficacy : the flesh (even could you literally receive
my body as aliment) the flesh is altogether unavailing (a double
negative ovk wcpcXri iwSey). The discourse I have been holdino- ID
with you has none other than a spiritual and vital import.' Yet,
in the face of so intelligible a caution, did the nicene theologians,
with Chrysostom at their head, earnestiy direct the attention of

454 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
men, not to the Saviour, not to his doctrine, but to the sacra
mental elements, and to their alleged miraculous properties !

I have already incidentally referred (p. 414) to a striking
instance in which the monastic institute, by one of its funda
mental principles, and as originally constituted, outraged the
'first commandment with promise,' as expounded by our Lord
(Matt. XV. 3 — 9 ; Mark vfi. 5—13.) It was, as we have seen,
a stern rule of the nicene monastic institute, that a monk should
cease to care for his parents and nearest relatives — on the ground
that he was ' dead to the world.' I will here only ask whether
so revolting an instance of contrariety in principle, between the
divine law as sanctioned anew by Christ, and the ascetic scherae,
is not enough to alarm the suspicions of those who even now
are lingering in the precincts of the ruined monastery, and fondly
wishing to see it repeopled ? Here, on the one side, is ' the
only lawgiver,' solemnly denouncing those who, by their tradi
tions — their foolish and wicked refinements, had, at once, made
void the law of God, and violated the best impulses of human
nature. On the other side, stands the admired institutor of the
monastic life- — the greatest of all authorities with the professors of
church principles, declaring it as his law, not Christ's, that those
who gave themselves up to his guidance, should avail themselves
of their separation from the world, as a ground of exemption from
the claims of fifial piety ! Casuistry, such as this, has not been
outdone by the Spanish doctors of the ' Society.'

' Whatsoever,' saith Christ, ' entereth in at the mouth, goeth
into the belly.' Not so, say the promoters of the nicene sa
cramental doctrine. It is a most gross error, and heresy,
to suppose that the consecrated bread ever passes beyond the
stomach !
Upon the worn passage, Matt. xvi. 18, 19, 1 will here make no
other remark than this — That, unless it be by a departure from
their acknowledged principles of inferential interpretation, as so
well illustrated in No. 85 of the Tracts for the Times, the writers

Christ's predictions and parables. 455
of those tracts must find it extremely difficult to extricate them
selves from the papistic interpretation of our Lord's words. How
many points of church principles are not to be proved by any better
scriptural evidence than this, on which the scheme of the papacy
rests ! This however we leave with those whom it concerns ; it
is a difficulty with which protestants, happfly, have nothing to do.

' Woe unto you lawyers (official interpreters of the divine law)
for ye have taken away the key of knowledge ; ye entered not
in yourselves, and them that were entering in ye hindered.'
(Luke xi. 52.)
In two ways Christ's animadversions upon the religious notions
and practices of the several Jewish sects, of that age, are applicable
to instances manifestiy analogous, in later times ; namely, first,
inasmuch as some general principle of the new and spiritual dis
pensation which he was estabfishing is involved in his pointed
reprehensions of what he then reproved ; and secondly, because
a religious faith in his omniscience, and in his intention to fore
warn his people, in all time to come, of the errors that should
prevail, obliges us to conclude that, in aU such cases, a virtual
prediction of the evils that should mark ' the last days,' was
latent in the rebuke. This belief of the prophetic intention oi
all such incidental passages in the Gospels, is confirmed — nay,
is established, when it is found that there is not one of them
which does not in a striking manner foreshow some broad charac
teristic of the nominal and visible church of after times.
If it shall appear that there is a convergence of the prophetic
import of our Lord's incidental reproofs of the errors of the Jewish
sects, all meeting in the unquestioned characteristics of the romish
church (the nicene included) ingenuous minds will not hesitate to
draw the proper inference — namely, that He who explicitiy con
demns the one, implicitly condemns the other. We are not now
attempting to deal with that resolute perversity of judgment which
can repel any proofs; but are assuming, in the reader, a religious
readiness to yield to such an amount of evidence as a well regu
lated mind ordinarily admits to be sufficient. On this ground
then, let us calmly examine the passaga above cited, taking it as

456

THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO

intended to reach beyond its immediate application to the masters
of rabbinical exposition. —
What then is the precise charge brought against the Jewish ex
pounders of the divine law ? — It is — That they had ' taken away
the key of knowledge :' in other words, they had removed from
the use, or reach, of the people, the instrument indispensable for the
acquirement of sacred truth. This instrument, or ' key of know
ledge,' is— the inspired scripture. The ' law, the prophets, and
the psalms,' were God's inestimable gift to the ancient church,
and they constituted the only means of reaching, or of opening a
way into, that knowledge ' for lack of which the people perish.'
The injunction, originally given, was solemn, and it was binding
upon the people universally, to make themselves intimately ac
quainted with God's written law. This duty was not to be per
formed by proxy — it was not to be transferred to the priests,
whatever aid these latter might afford to the less-informed, in the
better understanding it. By the change which events had brought
about in the vernacular dialect, the inspired books had, in respect
of the comraon people, been removed a little way from popular
cognizance, and so far they had come the more directly under the
control, or into the keeping of professional expositors. But this
circumstance, although it had resulted from the national defection,
in a remote age, could not well be brought against the class of
teachers, as their especial fault. Something else then must have
been intended. Nor had the Jewish doctors shut up the inspired
books, or removed thera from the hearing of the people. Moses,
David, and the Prophets, were read ' every sabbath day,' every
where, and in the hearing of all. Moreover, at the tirae in
question, the sacred books had, through the medium of the greek
version, become familiarly known to multitudes of the gentiles,
' In every city,' * at least, of the roman world, this light was
shining. The rabbis therefore, had not the power, even if they
had had the wish, to take away the key of knowledge in this
sense, or as the church of Rome has done in raodern tiraes.
They had however done that which as effectively barred the
way of truth against the access of the people, as if they had con
signed every copy of the sacred books to the vaults beneath the
. * Acts XV. 21.

Christ's PREDICTIONS and parables.

457

temple ; and it is remarkable that those who had effected this
exclusion of others, had themselves taken position outside the
bar; for they neither ' entered themselves,' nor permitted others
to enter. The context, and other places in the Gospels, make it
evident what were the practices which our Lord intended to
rebuke— namely, the bringing in a commentary on the written
law of God, or a system of inherited expositions (traditions) which
in all cases should stand between the popular mind and the
divine wfll ; so as that practically, in all questions of duty, whether
moral, civfl, or ceremonial, the only inquiry of any importance,
¦was — ' What saith the commentary ? — what say the interpreters?'
The rabbinical interpretations did not come in as subsidiary, or
as an aid, or even as a collateral authority ; but as at once the
primary, and the ultimate authority. Our Lord's indictment of
the lawyers reaches to this extent, ' Ye have made void the law
of God, through your traditions.' ' In vain do ye worship me,
teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.'
Our question then is this, whether the stern rebuke addressed
by the awful voice of the Son of God, to the chiefs and teachers
of the Jewish people, finds a fair application to any (so called)
christian church, sect, or community, of the ' last days.' Modern
romanist expositors have, to their own satisfaction, discovered
Wickliffe, Luther, Calvin, and other noted heretics, in the Apo
calypse and the Epistles. Be it so. And now let us be told to
whom the denunciation against those who ' take away the key of
knowledge' frora the people, best applies ; or if it applies to any
body of professed christians, known to history ? Are any pro
fessed christians chargeable with this especial presumption and
impiety— namely, That, even if the inspired writings have not
been actuafly entombed, yet that access to thera has been barred ;
and that, whether the text has heen known to the people or not,
an authoritative exposition, or body of interpretations, handed
down frora age to age, has stood in front of the law of God, and
has in fact superseded it, as the rule of belief, of morals, and of
worship ? Is this the guflt of Wickliffe, of Luther, of the
english reformers ? Is this the mark of the reformation, that,
whereas heretofore the common people throughout Europe had
\)een in the free enjoyment of God's word, and had held ' the key

458 THE VISIBLE CHURCH — ACCORDING TO
of knowledge ' in their hands, these innovators rushed in, snatched
the instrument of salvation from the popular grasp, arrogated to
theraselves the office of authoritative interpretation, opposed the
translation and diffusion of the Scriptures, and, in a word, neither
entered the temple of knowledge themselves, nor suffered those
to enter who would gladly have done so ?
Such questions need not be answered ; but it is necessary, in
considering this particular topic, to give attention to certain facts,
which appear to have been overlooked by many who inveigh
against the roraish church on account of its suppression of the
Scriptures. There is also reason to surmise that even the well
informed writers of the Tracts for the Times have inadvertently
placed themselves in a position which they would not wittingly
have chosen to occupy ; or at least, not at so early a stage of
their proceedings : — I mean that they have, by the general ten
dency of their principles, and by some explicit professions of
opinion on practical points, associated themselves with the romish
church of modern times, and have placed themselves in open
contrariety to the entire body of nicene church authorities. This
fact is remarkable enough, and demands to be distinctly stated,
although to adduce all the evidence which bears upon it, would
occupy more space than can be here afforded. The actual pro
hibition, to the laity, of the perusal of the Scriptures, the throw
ing irapediments in the way of translations, the formal denial of
their being the sole and ultimate authority in questions of doc
trine and worship, and an open avowal of the rule, that the tra
ditions of the Church, the decrees of councils, and the edicts of
popes are the actual law of the Church — a law superseding the
canonical scriptures, all these impieties are of comparatively
modern origin ; and, in fact, they have sprung frora the alarms of
the papal court, in witnessing the revival of learning, the diffusion
of religious knowledge, the multiplication of the Scriptures by
printing, and the revival of evangelic doctrine. No such jealousy
was betrayed by the popes, councfls, and fathers, of earlier
times ; and from the guilt of the recent papacy, in this respect,
the nicene church is wholly free. Those admirers, therefore, of
that church, whose confessed and unconfessed uneasiness in regard
to popular instruction, and whose consciousness of the futility of

Christ's predictions and parables. 459
any attempt to effect a scriptural defence of their opinions, have
led them to speak the language of the modern papacy, have, un
awares, made theraselves liable to a severe reprehension, which
might be expressed in the very language of the nicene fathers.
There has been a strange oversight in this particular, which should
be retrieved as it may : — how, does not appear. Let us look to
the case a little closer. —
Compelled, as I have been, to lay open the grievous errors of
the nicene divines, and to speak of them as the authors or patrons
of the superstitions which we have been used to attribute to
Rome, it is with an unfeigned pleasure that I now find the oppor
tunity for noting a momentous exception, in favour of the earlier
church, I mean the nicene, and even the more ancient romish
church, as compared with Tridentine romanism, and with Oxford
Tract principles.
Thoughtiess of the inevitable consequences of the course they
were taking, and wholly inexperienced as to the tendency of cer
tain notions and practices, and having unhappily assented to a
principle which would shelter frora reproof any amount of inno
vation, the great divines — bishops, preachers, and expositors,
never thought of theraselves as standing condemned by Scripture ;
and they felt therefore no jealousy in regard to the perusal of it
by the laity. The remonstrance against the prevailing super
stitions had not gone far enough to suggest this apprehension of
the adverse authority of Scripture : the Church had indeed put
another rule in the place of Scripture ; but it had done so very
gradually, and alraost unconsciously ; and so it was, that in the
same breath, and on the same page, while insisting upon rules of
conduct flagrantly opposed to the spirit and precepts of the Gospel,
they nevertheless not only quoted Scripture freely ; but fervently
applauded it, and urgently recommended the perusal and study of
it — not to the clergy merely, but to the comraon people. And as
to the diffusion of Christianity hy allmeans, never, so far as appears,
did a cold feeling of reserve chill their zeal. This sort of jealousy
is the growth of modern tiraes, and it is as uncatholic in its
quality, as it is recent ; and in a word, is nothing better than the
deadly qualm of superstition and despotism, when light is seen to
be breaking in upon the world.

460 the visible church — according to
It would be easy to fill many pages with citations from the
writers highest in esteem, as well with romanists as with the
modern proraoters of nicene church principles, tending to show
with how unreserved a zeal, and with what animation, they
urged upon all christians the daily perusal, and diligent study
of the holy scriptures ; and moreover, with what unfeigned
pleasure they hailed any endeavours to spread the Gospel : — -
they, at least, thought that to ' bring churches near to the homes
of every body,' and to multiply and diffuse copies of the Bible,
and to evangelize pagan nations, and to instruct the young
in christian countries, were christian labours, never to be checked
by the thought of a surmised or possible harm, thence to accrue
to the instructed. I am not aware of any contrary sentiment
or opinion in the whole range of the patristic tomes. It is very
true that the ancient church did draw a line between inner
and outer doctrine ; and in this sense it reserved what were
regarded as the more sacred and peculiar doctrines of religion.
But it is not at all true — quite the contrary, that they placed
any obstacle in the way of the propagation of the outer
doctrine ; or, as we may say, the prime and saving elements
of christian truth ; or at least what they deemed to be such.
All means were employed with the view of gathering souls into
the Church; — in what way dealt with when there, is another
question. Such, as may easily be proved, was the feeling and tiie prac
tical doctrine of all ; — we need hardly say, of Athanasius, Basil,
Ambrose, Jerome, Augustine, Cyril, Gregory, Chrysostom. The
latter, in two or three signal passages, expatiates upon the duty
and happiness of studying the Scriptures, a duty from which
not the most unlearned, nor the busiest could be excused : and,
in another instance, he exults in those pious labours by means
of which copies of the sacred volume had been so multiplied,
and so diffused, as to have reached the remotest countries, and
were to be found everywhere, in plenty : — even ' Britain,' says
he, ' possesses and abounds with the word of life ! ' Who can
doubt, in reading the passage which I now refer to, that if
a summary report of the Bible-Society operations of the nine
teenth century, could have been conveyed to Chrysostom, it

Christ's predictions and parables.

461

would have gladdened his heart, and would have drawn from his
bosom the joyful Nunc dimittis ?
Waiting a fitter opportunity for quoting the nicene divines on
this point, I wifl here adduce a testimony, even more to the pur
pose than theirs could be : — I mean that of a pope who, if we
may infer his general feelings from his language on particular
occasions, would have scouted, as utterly unchristian, sentiments
such as those which have been advanced by protestant divines of
the nineteenth century. Gregory the great, whatever mischief
he may have done in promoting superstition, had yet a warm
and a christian heart ; and had he been governed by the prin
ciples now professed among us, Britain might have slept a cen
tury or two longer, in the pagan darkness that had come anew
upon it. The doctrine, that the promulgation of religious truth
is to be regarded, at the best, as an ambiguous, and often as an
ominous procedure of the divine government, does not seem to
have been known to pope Gregory : so one would suppose from
his unembarrassed language in many instances ; in extolling the
preacher's office, or in enlarging upon the excellency and suffi
ciency ofthe Holy Scriptures, whfle employed in expounding them,
and in recomraending the study of them to all men.* Or, if we
choose rather to listen to his pastoral adraonitions, which have
a more practical import, we shall flnd the indications of the same
evangelizing fervour, damped by none of the jealousies or chflls
which now lead certain persons to prefer a desolate cathedral to
a crowded church, and which would forbid all but the narrowest
missionary labours. Witness the epistie to the bishop of Cor-
sica,"!- in which the preaching the Gospel to those who had relapsed
into idolatry, and to the heathen, is recommended with a solemn
fervour ; and, moreover, a sum of money accompanies this epistle,
for defraying the expenses of these missionary labours. — Pope
Gregory, then, whatever Oxford Tract divines may think, believed
that the conversion of souls might be promoted by ' mammon,
and human means.' Gregory would have shuddered to hear it
affirmed that, ' with regard to any ways of doing good in the
* Vol. i. p. 795, 866, 870, 871, 895, 896, 920, 1080, and in Ezek. Hom. 6,
7, 9, 10, 12.
t Tom. ii. p. 746.

462 THE visible church  ACCORDING TO
world, it is far too great a work for any thing of human device,
or any plans that partake of this world to perform.'* And yet
he is not unmindful of that discretion which must distribute the
strong meat, or the milk of the word, according to the capacity
of the hearer :-|" a discretion carried too far by the ancient church,
and which the Oxford Tract writers have miserably misunder
stood, as if it should restrain altogether the propagation of the
Gospel. The spirit and feeling of these writers in regard to the
diffusion of religious truth, is so utterly opposed to that of the
ancient roraish church, and savours so much of the teraper and
policy of the raodern papacy, that 1 cannot hut insist, a little
longer, upon so instructive a therae. Let any one gather the
general purport ofthe tract already referred to, and then compare
it with the evangelic fervour of — a pope. —
Sphaerula autem, quid est aliud, nisi volubifitas prsedicationis ?
Sphsera enim ex omni parte volvitur. Et prasdicatio, quse nee
adversitate retineri potest, nee prosperitatibus elevatur, sphaera
est : quia est et inter adversa fortis, et inter prospera humflis, nee
timoris habet angulura, nee elationis. In cursu ergo suo figi non
valet; quia per cuncta se volubfliter trahit.J The wings ofthe
virtues are then " straight under the firmament," (Ezek. i.) when
one imparts to another the good he possesses ... as when he who is
full of the grace of teaching, enlightens by his preaching the dark
ness of his ignorant neighbour. § The drops of dew are holy
preachers themselves, who, with the freeness of divine liberality,
pour themselves forth on the parched fields of our hearts.|| The
sacred scripture is our meat and drink.** In proportion as any
one searches more deeply into them wifl he understand them
more deeply.-j-f The higher any one mounts (in the contempla
tion of divine things) the raore the sacred word reveals to him of
things still higher.JJ It behoves the bishop, says Gregory, by
his preaching, to impart scriptural knowledge to the unlettered
common people, who cannot otherwise acquire it.§§ Pages might
be filled with quotations to the same effect, in relation to the
promulgation of the Gospel ; "and as to the study and diffusion
* Tracts for the Times, No. 80, p. 82. f Pastoral. Curce, tom. i. 1130.
X Tn Ezek. Hom. 6. § In Ezek. Hom. 7. || In Job xxxviii. 28.'
"" In Ezek. Hom. 10. tt I" Ezek. Hom. 7. V* H''^- §§ Tom. ii. p. 491.

Christ's predictions and parables. 463
of the holy scriptures, protestants have scarcely said more than
this pope has said; and yet, whfle keeping in view the distinction
between the mysteries of religion and its plainer truths ; and while
assigning the former to the few, he opens the latter to all without
restriction. Paucorum quippe est, fortia et occulta cognoscere,
multorum vero, historiae aperta sentire.*
Have the writers of the Tracts for the Times, in the whole
course of their voluminous labours, anywhere so expressed their
cordial admiration of the Scriptures, as adapted to the wants and
tastes of all men, as pope Gregory does, iu the opening of his
twentieth book on Job ?f He is not afraid lest the inspired
volume, made too common, should come to be despised — quod
dictis obscurioribus exercet fortes, et parvulis humili sermone
blanditur ; quod nee sic clausa est, ut pavesci debeat, nee sic patet,
ut vilescat . . , quod a rudibus lectoribus quasi recognoscitur,
et tamen doctis semper nova reperitur. One would think one
were listening to some bible- society declaimer — certainly not to
an Oxford Tract writer. Gregory, writing to a laic,J recommends
to him the study of Scripture. — 'What is holy scripture,' says he,
' but an epistle from Almighty God to his creature ? ' . . . Stude
ergo, quaaso, et quotidie Creatoris tui verba meditare ; and upon
this the romish editor adds this note — ' Gregory teaches that the
laity should read the Scriptures, and he blames their negligence
therein.' Ita sancti patres, illorura temporum, -«»« quasi voce,
praedicant. Yet, in thus recommending the study of the
Scriptures, Gregory does not forget the possible injury which
some might thence derive, § and which, in the opinion of Oxford
Tract writers, is reason enough for repressing our zeal in diffusing
them. Never did either the ancient church, or the nicene, or the
earlier romish church, think of any such impiety as that of
checking the zeal of those who laboured to propagate Chris
tianity, or of prohibiting, or in any way discouraging, the cir
culation, perusal, or study of God's word. In no such sense
did the christian church, any raore than the Jewish doctors had
done, ' take away the key of knowledge,' The harboured wish,
" Tom. i. p. 24. t Tom. i. p. 578.
J Tom. ii. p. 625. § Tom. iii. p. 203.

464

THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO

or the open attempt to do so, is the characteristic of the apo
state modern papacy. How far the promoters of church prin
ciples have partaken in this guflt is a serious question, which
themselves might do well to consider. It belongs however to
our arguraent to inquire what may be the apparent intention,
and what the practical import, of the principles maintained in
the Tracts for the Times, in relation to this subject. I shall
therefore now refer the reader to one of the best written, and
the most specious of these tracts, naraely, that on ' Reserve in
communicating religious knowledge.' With the introductory
argument of this tract (although it invites refutation) I have nothing
now to do ; but shall merely point out its practical agreement with
the modern romish, and anti-nicene, and anti-christian procedure
of entombing religious truth in coUeges, in cloisters, and in unfre
quented cathedrals.
The proper reply to the argument drawn from our Lord's per
sonal conduct and his mode of teaching, must obtrude itself upon
every one conversant with the New Testament ; this however we
waive. — A reference* to the disciplina arcani of the ancient
church may pass for as much as it is worth, so far as the practice
of holding back from neophytes and catechumens the more sacred
and profound truths of the christian system. That practice was
indeed of most pernicious consequence ; but it is not now our
subject ; nor has it any thing to do with those labours of evangelic
zeal which the writer of this tract frowns upon, and would fain
suppress. Not one of the fathers referred to ever imagined that
christians should hesitate to use all endeavours for bringing con
verts into the Church, nor have they, generally, dared to go tha
lengths of the Oxford Tract writers in joining tradition with the
canonical scriptures, as the rule of faith. The writer now before
us quotes Basil ; — but has he, or have his colleagues, ever read
that great man's tract Trept wiarewQ ? If not, I take the liberty to
recommend it to their perusal ; especially that portion of it begin
ning ' If then the Lord be faithful in all his words,' &c.f In
this and other instances, a refutation of Oxford Tract doctrines,
conveyed in the very words of the nicene divines, might easily be
prepared. Too evident is it that these learned persons have been
• Tracts for the Times, No. 80, p. 62. t Basil, tom. ii. p. 251.

Christ's predictions and parables. 465
used to read the fathers through the glasses ol modern romanism,
and that they are thus throwing an unmerited obloquy upon the
authors whom. they, at the same time, unduly reverence.
But with what feelings do these writers regard — ' that extraor
dinary aspect of things, which meets us when we lift up our eyes
upon the present state of the world. The knowledge of God
hastening to cover the earth, as the waters cover the sea,' &c.
The writer is amazed that none, or none but a few, behold, in
these new movements, a much to be dreaded, if not deprecated
dispensation — an expression of divine displeasure toward an
evil generation. ' Serious minds, anxiously looking for some
anchor of the soul in this new trial which is coming upon the
world,' are referred, especiaUy, to the advice which St. Paul gives
to persons under a similar apprehension, in the second epistle to
the Thessalonians, where the stay against Anti-Christ is this: —
" Therefore brethren, stand fast, and hold the traditions which ye
have been taught, whether by word, or hy our epistle." ' In
looking,' says the writer, ' to that epistle for some practical
guidance, the general principle on which this steadfastness must
be founded, is here given, namely, an adherence to the catholic
truth, written and unwritten.' That is to say, as appears from
what follows, a seriously minded christian, looking aghast at the
modern missionary and bible zeal, as ominous of heaven's wrath,
wfll hold hiraself clear of any participation in these indiscreet
endeavours to spread Christianity ; and, on the contrary, will
wrap himself up in a thick coat (a coat of many colours) of
catholic principles, traditions, written and anwritten. But what
is it that follows ?
The ingenious writer of this tract, whose style throughout it
does hut dimly reveal his interior meaning, assumes a delphic
ambiguity when he approaches his ' important practical conclu
sion,' as well as when he suggests what ought, and what ought
not to be done, by christian people of the true school. But
surely 'practical conclusions' and advices, touching our conduct,
how much soever they may be mystified in the delivery, can be
made no use of at all, until they have been rendered into the
homely dialect of common life. Take an example. A devout
and wealthy layman resolves to spend a loose five and twenty
thousand pounds, upon sacred architecture. Now this sum

466 the visible church — according to
might be laid out in the erection of an awful gothic struc
ture, the fretted roof of which should blend its devices in
the coloured light gleaming from painted windows, and where
upon • all the saints ' should be glorified, and within which— (the
structure itself having been discreetiy reared far remote from
profane crowds) few worshippers should awaken solemn echoes.
This may be done with the said five and twenty thousand
pounds: or, altogether another principle having been adopted,
two spacious, but economic churches, may be built, in the very
heart of two populous parishes; and, if other parts ofthe bene
volent design are well arranged, the consequence almost certainly
will be, that two large congregations, gathered from the middle
and lower classes — reclaimed from atheism, will, sunday after
Sunday, therein swell the notes of prayer and praise. Such
being his alternative, this devout and munificent founder, turns
to the ' Tracts for the Times,' thence to derive guidance in relation
to a practical question, upon the determination of which infinite
consequences may and must depend.
Now, after reading much, expressed in vague terms, of the
awful and ominous attempt to impart religious knowledge to
those from whom hitherto it has in mercy been withheld, and of
the extreme presumption of those persons, who, unsent, go about
to rob men of the inestimable benefits of spiritual destitution, our
church-buflder first reads the general axiom, bearing upon any
endeavour to promote religious truth — ' That, in regard to any
ways of doing good to the world, it is far too great a work for
anything of human device, or any plans that partake of this
world to perform ; ' — as to wit — the placing of two churches, in
a crowded neighbourhood, with seven hundred free sittings in
each. This axiora seems, by implication, to condemn the ir
religious church-extension plan, that had heen entertained: but
something more precise is offered, which can hardly leave a
doubt as to the choice that is to be made on this supposed
occasion. The general doctrine of the tract is directly ap
plied to the ' modern practice' of ' bringing churches near to the
houses of every body.' ' With regard to the budding of churches,
our Lord's testimony to the widow's mite, and the costiy oint
ment, and to the intention of the man after his own heart, proves
such works to be in the highest degree acceptable to him, and

Christ's predictions and parables. 467
therefore necessarily productive of good. And the sacrifices they
require are greatly beneficial to the individual, merely as religious
sacrifices. It is also very important, as setting up a witness, of
which character alone many of the best actions must be. It is
indeed one of the most natural expressions of a heart rightly dis
posed, as offerings made to God, arising in Him, and resting in
Him, as their end ; and therefore there can be no means of pro
moting the cause of refigion higher and better than such.
Merely, I repeat, as oblations to God, and having reference to
Him alone, and which, of course, cannot be too costly and
expensive, in proportion to our own habits of life, which natural
piety itself would teach. It were painful to think we should
bestow ornaments on our own houses, and leave the house of God
without. But when the utilitarian view of the subject is taken,
are we not thinking that we may do, by human means, and such
as partake of this world, that which is the work of God alone ?
as if the mamraon of the world could proraote the cause of God !
For if the erection of churches which, frora coramodiousness and
easiness of access, are to invite, and from their little cost partake
more of a low, contriving expediency, than of a generous love of
God, is to do the work of religion, then it is more easy to win
souls than scripture will warrant us in supposing : — on the con
trary, if the maxim be true that " men venerate that which re-
sisteth them, and that which courteth their favour they despise,"
then have we to fear lest, rather than doing good, we be breaking
that holy law which hath coramanded that we give not that which
is holy to the dogs.' *
Clearly then, there is an end of the ' utilitarian ' project of
erecting one cheap, accessible, and commodious church in Spital-
fields, for the benefit of the miserable rabble of that quarter, and
another like it in St. Giles's, or Berraondsey. A far more christian-
like work — a work having more in it of the nature of ' a sacrifice,'
and more in harmony with the general tenor of the gospel dispen
sation, will be to select an unfrequented suburb, or an actual
wilderness ; and there, ' for the honour of God alone,' and with
no view to the benefit of man, or to his direct benefit, to set
artists to work ; and there to lavish all the expensive resources of
masonry, sculpture, carving, gilding, glass-staining, and painting !
* No. 80, pp. 68, 69.
I I 2

468 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
This is the church-buflding which is to embody, on a grand scale,
the apostolic injunction — ' To do good, and to communicate, forget
not; for with such sacrifices, God is wefl pleased !' ' My house,'
saith God, ' shaU be called a house of prayer for all nations :' — a
place of general assembly, ' whither the tribes go up,' and where
ample space is provided also for the devout stranger from every
land. And thus David recollected his having gone up with 'a
multitude,' to keep the holy day. And so, as early as the christian
communities were free to show themselves to the world, they
erected spacious churches, commodious and easy of access, and as
near as possible to the homes of the people ; and so, even the
papacy has facilitated public worship ; witness those still-stand
ing spacious edifices in neighbourhoods then populous, if not now so,
wherein church room for the people was unrestrictedly provided.
But the doctrine of ' Reserve ' takes a course far more agreeable
to the dictates of fine taste, and poetic devotional feeling. Who
can be devout in the suffocating atmosphere, that has been breathed
by fifteen hundred plebeian lungs ? who does not rather defight in
the chilly gloom of the awe-imposing structure, erected ' to the
honour of God alone,' wherein the thrilling chant dies away in
the vast spaces around, and where the whisper of prayer ascends,
heavenward, borne aloof by no heated exhalations of a crowd
beneath ! This is the home of the genuine and ' austere ' virtue
which Oxford Tract writers would fain put in the room of the
cheap church system of the day —
Se sub serenis vultibus
Austera virtus occulit ;
Timet videri ; ne suum,
Dum prodit, amittat decus.
In accordance with the discouragement put by ' the principle of
Reserve' upon the modern church buflding, and ' free sittings'
system,* is a like disapproval of the iudiscrimate circulation
of Bibles, and cheap refigious publications — of schools for the
lower classes — of ' popular and pleasing pulpit eloquence,' and of
* ' If churches are to he brought home to all, then are all persons to be
brought into churches: and this by human means.' — No. 80, p. 69. Such is
the language of protestant clergymen, and the successors of the men who
were commanded ' to go out into all the world, and to preach the Gospel to
every creature ! '

Christ's predictions .and parables. 469
the adaptation of the hours of worship to the habits and conve
nience ofthe mass ofthe people.
' We must not expect that the work which occasioned our
Saviour and his disciples so much pains, can be done by such
means.' To put a Bible or a religious book into the hands of one
of whose favourable dispositions for receiving it we are not already
assured, is to incur the risk of doing an incalculable injury.
Therefore, clearly, the modern Bible Society zeal, is to be re
garded as an awful presumption, tending to aggravate the con
demnation of millions. And so was the first promulgation of
the Gospel, which was ' a savour of death unto death ' to those
who received it not. Nevertheless Paul went every where
'preaching the word with all boldness,' and raade full proof of his
ministry, by traversing the roman world, from Arabia to Britain.
It is not to be imagined that writers gifted with any discretion,
and wishing to keep terms with the english religious community,
should go the length of roundly condemning all that has been
devised, attempted, and effected, of late, with the view of
spreading Christianity among the lower classes, or the heathen.
1 his could not be endured ; — this would bring the Oxford Tract
scheme to a speedy termination. But, stopping short of this,
these writers have gone as far as they could go, in discouraging
all such ' utilitarian ' measures, and the actual result must be to
divert their disciples from contributing to, or taking part in, any
such endeavours. Practically, there would be no difference, in
regard to evangelic labours, between the most devoted romanist,
and the disciple of the Oxford Tract writers : — or if there were
a difference, it would be in favour of the former ; for the church
of Rome is herself now discarding the principle of reserve, and
is courting the common people by all means.
But let us do justice to these writers. — Their approval of
national schools is dubiously expressed : they decidedly disap
prove of the indiscriminate or free distribution of Bibles and
religious books ; and they shrink from modern church-building
practices, or the endeavour, by the aid of ' mammon,' to bring
churches near to every one's house. Nevertheless they earnestly
desire to 'evangelize our large towns.' They too have their zeal ;
but what are to be its instruments ? Pushed, as it would seera,
for a specious motive which might avail to justify the re-establish-

'*'^° THE VISIBLE CHURCH— ACCORDING TO
ment of monastic orders, and the revival of clerical celibacy, it is
declared that the christianizing of our large towns wifl never he
effected untfl monastic orders have been revived. ' Choose you
must, between monks and methodists ! '
Gathering up the manifest intention of the tract on Reserve in
communicating religious knowledge, and finding there an explicit
disapproval of even the most canonical measures for bringing
Christianity near to the homes of the common people, it is
difficult to think of this proposal for the revival of clerical celi
bacy and monkery, as the only means of evangelizing the lower
orders, in any other light than as a mere pretext. With the
strongest wish to put a fair construction upon whatever may
admit it, I cannot so far overlook the colour of the facts, as to
believe that a pure christian zeal has been at the bottom of this
new scheme for bringing in among us the ancient abomination.
But there is a word that should yet be said in balancing the
respective merits of the Oxford Tract writers, and the nicene
doctors : and here I challenge impartial persons to weigh the
facts, and to give a true verdict.
The nicene doctors, by unlawfuUy attributing to traditions,
written and unwritten, and to the decrees of councils, an autho
rity collateral with that of the canon of Scripture, opened the way
for that deluge of superstitions which the papacy drew off into
its reservoirs. To this extent it trod in the steps of the Jewish
doctors, that, in many important instances, the law of God was
made void by the coraraandraents of men. Thus far, then, the
nicene church comes under the reprobation of which the Jewish
church was the immediate object ; and in a heavier degree, inas
much as the system thus spoiled and superssded was of a more
spiritual character. But then neither the one nor the other had
dared to remove the inspired scriptures frora the knowledge of
men; and both held thera in high honour. Nevertheless, our
Lord considered the mere fact of putting tradition in the place of
the divine law, as ground for the serious charge of having ' taken
away the key of knowledge.'
But the case of the Oxford Tract divines is very different.
The nicene church had had littie benefit of experience, nor did it
know whither it was tending : moreover, at that time, traditions
were recent, and had travelled down hut a littie way, and such as

Christ's predictions and parables. 471
were of early origin might perhaps be authenticated. — But now,
in this nineteenth century, after Christendom has been swept by
inundations, again and again, after schism upon schism has rent
the body, after the grossest corruptions have swamped all earlier
usages, and confounded all, ivhat and where are those ' unwritten
traditions,' to which, along with the written, we are now explicitly
referred, as affording to serious minds an ' anchor of the soul '
in times of agitation ? The Oxford Tract divines, like the Jewish
doctors, and like the nicene, place traditions, written and un
written, on a footing with the canonical scriptures ; and they do
so after the experience that has been had of the inevitable con
sequence of so unholy an association ; and they do this in an age
so remote from the source of authority, as that to use any dis
crimination in the heap is utterly impracticable.
The case then is this. — The Jewish doctors were solemnly repre
hended, for having 'taken away the key of knowledge,' because they
had superseded God's law by their traditions and comments. The
nicene church did worse, by an analogous substitution, under cir
cumstances of aggravation ; yet did they not either discourage the
circulation or study of the Scriptures, or the buflding of churches,
or any other zealous endeavours to promulgate the Gospel : on
the contrary, they are entitled to the praise of having promoted
the knowledge of it in all modes then devised and practicable.
The modern church of Rome, finding it impossible to repress
heresy, and to maintain its t3'ranny over the consciences of men, in
any country in which the Scriptures are freely circulated, and
while the people are allowed to think and to inquire concerning
religion, has put every kind of obstacle in the way of the exten
sion of biblical knowledge, and has used all means in its power
(according to its extent of influence in each country) for sealing
the mind of the people in absolute ignorance. Inheriting the
ancient guilt of supplanting the word of God by human enact
ments, comments, and traditions, it has taken to itself the higher
crime of actuaUy removing that word from the hands of the people.
The Oxford Tract writers foUow in the steps of the Jewish
rabbis, by attributing a collateral authority to traditions, written
and unwritten : — they follow in the steps of the nicene church, to
the same extent ; and they follow in the steps of the church of
Rome not only to this extent, but by discouraging (they cannot

472 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
forbid) the circulation of the Scriptures, and of religious books,
among the comraon people ; and they go beyond the church of
Rome in disparaging, as ' utflitarian and presumptuous,' the zeal
of our times, which endeavours to bring the very form of worship
they approve of, ' near to every man's home.'
At first sight one is amazed to find those who profess to dis
allow the corruptions and oppressions of Rome, themselves sur
passing her in the jealousies of spiritual despotisra. Under this
difficulty it is hard to repel that explanation of the mystery which
is offered when we remember the capital circumstance distin
guishing the liturgical services of the romish frora those of the
english church : — the church of Rome may freely build chapels
and churches where she pleases, and in the thickest quarters of
our great towns ; for the veil of ' an unknown tongue ' still hangs
between the popular mind and the elements of religious know
ledge ; all is safe : — all is stifl in the power of the priest ; and
when he condescends to speak to the people, he may say what he
thinks fit, and as little : the master and the slave are in the
position proper to each ; the latter being wholly at the mercy
of the former. But alas ! ' cum statutum esset, ut cultus divinus,
eo usque in latino idiomate absolutus, transiret in vernaculum,'*
and when certain persons, of whom we ' know little that is good,'
declared it to be ' a thing plainly repugnant to the word of God,
and the custom of the primitive church, to have public prayer in
the church, or to minister the sacraments in a tongue not under
stood of the people ' — the church (protestant) relinquished the
grand means of offering ' a sacrifice to God merely, having no
respect to the benefit of men ! ' and at the same time it deprived
itself of the liberty to multiply churches apart from the hazards
that attend enlightening the people I Thus it is that, so long as
we are encumbered by a vernacular liturgy, the ' principle of
Reserve' must forbid the attempt to 'bring churches near to every
man's home : ' — the more remote they are, and the less frequented,
the better. In a word, as to our untoward english liturgy, how
better can we hide our shame respecting it, or repress the perils it
involves, than by entombing it in the choirs of untrod cathedrals !
* Pnefatio, signed, J. H. N. to the Hymni Ecclesia, e Brev. Rom.

Christ's predictions and parables. 473
Instances of sanguinary intolerance, on the part of the Sanhe
drim or Jewish rulers, even including those acts of violence of
which the first christians were the objects, have been few. What
were they corapared with the crusades upon christian communities,
and the immolation of millions of single victims, in a long course
of ages, by the church of Rome ? and yet our Lord charges his
countrymen Vi^ith a guilt in this respect, the weight of which we
may estimate when we look into the pages of Josephus. What
then has been the guilt of Rome ! But let us mark that singular
coincidence of characteristics which, springing from an identity of
principle, brings the roraish and the Jewish hierarchies under
precisely the sarae reprehension. This intolerant community,
headed by the scribes and pharisees, distinguished itself by its
forward zeal in doing honour to the Prophets, the saints and
martyrs of a remote time. * ' Ye build the tombs of the prophets,
and adorn the sepulchres of the righteous.' Here then are
brought into apposition, on the ground of a real, although not
obvious alliance, two marks of a reprobate church :^naraely, a
cruel intolerance, joined with an officious zeal in reverencing the
memories of those who had been the victims of the very same
temper in the men of an earlier age. But now — Does this
remarkable coincidence attach, as its characteristic, to the church
of Rome? Elsewhere, the world has seen no such enormous
incongruity as that of a religion, the services of which mainly
consist in the worshipping of martyrs, and which same religion
has been sustained, from age to age, by horrid executions, cold
blooded massacres, and exterminating wars ! If the blood shed
on the score of refigion, by the Jewish church, was not a hundredth
part of the christian blood shed by pagan Rome, this again was
not a thousandth part of the christian blood that has heen shed
hy papal Rome : and if hypocrisy aggravated the guflt of murder,
in the instance of the Jewish chiefs, by a false-hearted reverence
paid to the memory of the Prophets, how much has the guilt of
the papacy — ' drunk with the blood of the saints,' been enhanced
by the idolatrous worship it has at the same time rendered to
martyrs and confessors ! We say then that, on the simplest
principles of equity, the ' woe ' denounced by Christ against the
* Matt, xxiii. 27—39.

474 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
scribes and pharisees, who, while breathing murder, ' built the
tombs of the Prophets, and garnished the sepulchres of the
righteous,' irapends with incalculably greater weight over the
church of Rome.
But now it is most remarkable (so constant are the develop
ments of great principles) that, at the very moment when the
nicene church was giving itself up, without restraint, to the many
superstitions that had come to be connected with the respect paid
to the martyrs — just when it was ' garnishing the sepulchres of
the righteous ' with the flowers of a false rhetoric — just when it
was cherishing by all means among the people the reverence for
relics and for tombs, and was allowing the invocation of saints,
and, in a word, was transferring its worship from the Creator to
the creature, — just then, and at that same moment, did the spirit
of church intolerance first express itself aloud, and put itself in
act. Shall we not observe a coincidence so striking, suggested
as it is by our Lord's remarkable words ? The predictive import
of a passage in which, if ignorant of church history, we should
have found it difficult to trace the link of connexion, forces itself
upon our notice when we take it as a clue in foflowing the dark
mysteries of superstition and spiritual despotism ?
This remarkable coincidence, or simultaneous development of
intolerance, and of superstition in regard to the martyrs, may be
traced, more or less cleariy, in the language of each ofthe great
divines ofthe fourth century, and even in those whose personal piety
is the least questionable. Say Augustine : protesting, as he did,
against the advances of superstition, he yet yields to and favours it,
and he finally left to the Church the fatal warrant of his authority in
behalf of many pernicious usages : and this Augustine, thus doing
violence to his better convictions, professes, very distinctiy, the
doctrine of persecution ; and, in doing so, he has put a text into the
mouths of inquisitors. * And thus too Ambrose, admirable as
• I have already quoted Jerome, saying, non est crudelitas pro Deo;— text
enough for all the crimes of the Holy OfiBce ; nothing more is needed to justify
the roasting a heretic over a slow fire. The sarae father also declares his
opinion that his adversary— the impugner of the reverence paid to tombs and
relics should have been broken by the iron rod of ecclesiastical authority.
All this is what one expects from the man— it is his temper. But similar
expressions uttered by such as Augustine and Ambrose are rather the

Christ's predictions and parables. 475
was his episcopal conduct in many instances, affords an instruc
tive example of that natural coherence of superstition and cruelty,
upon the alliance of which our Lord's reproof of the pharisees
was founded. Ambrose, miserably lending himself to church
frauds, in the discovery of the ashes of martyrs — invoking the
saints, and consoling himself with the thought of a hallowed tomb,
at which to offer his devotions— this same Ambrose, infiames the
rising intolerance of the times, and takes an active part in the
barbarous condemnation of one who had dared to protest against
these very superstitions ! *
indications of the sentiment of the times: their temper was not ferocious.
The former, who at one time had declared himself against the employment of
force in repressing heresy, at length professes that he had changed his
opinion, and thought it lawful and necessary. Among other passages, to the
same effect, the reader may turn to Augustine's long allegorical reasoning on
the story of Isaac and Ishmael, by which he formally established the lawful
ness of dealing with heretics by force ; and makes an appeal to christian
princes on this ground, placing before them also the wholesome decree of
Nebuchadnezzar (Dan. iii. 29) as an example to be followed. ' Such acts of
severity are not,' says he, 'rightly called persecution. — Ishmael persecuted
Isaac ; but it was no persecution when Sarah dealt hardly with Hagar ' (afHixit
earn graviter.) In Joannis Evang. Tract. IX. a far better style he holds
sometimes — delectat me enim imitari, quantum valeo, mansuetudinem Domini
mei Jesu Christi, &c.
* Let the reader mark the coincidence of abject superstition, and of in
tolerance, when we follow a man like Ambrose from the s})ot whence the
nubiles reliquiae of St. Gervasius and St. Protasius were dug out (ad Sororem,
epist. 22) to the hall where the unfortunate Jovinian was condemned ' lo be
whipped, together with bis abettors and attendants, and confined to some
place of banishment.' Would any one dare, at this day, in the streets of
Naples or Madrid, to call in question the reality of the miracle when the fresh
liquid blood of Saint Who-you-will is exhibited in a bottle ? No indeed, for
these pious juggles are serious aff'airs at Naples and Madrid. But fifteen
hundred years ago when Ihe very same juggle was played off at Milan, under
tho auspices of Ambrose, it would not have been any more safe to have
attempted to expose the cheat. 'Vidimus autem in sepulcro,' says the deacon
Paulinus, addressing Augustine, 'sanguinem martyris ita recentem, quasi
eodem die fuisset efFusus;' 'and his head just as fresh and as fair as if it had
that moment been severed from the body.' Vita S. Ambrosii, a Paulino, c 32.
Is there no inference forcing itself upon religious minds, when the very same
superstitions, held in credit by the same frauds, and jealously guarded by (he
same intolerance, are found, and on the very same spots, running on through
a long course of time ? Are we at liberty to resent in the nineteenth century,
that which we have reverenced in the fourth ? A sound mind regards with
indignation the cruelty which screens knavery and folly, to whomsoever may
attach the guilt of 'garnishing the sepulchres of the righteous' with hands
dipped in blood.

476 THE VISIBLE CHURCH— ACCORDING TO
When, in a later age, we hear the monsters of the papal tyranny
quoting the nicene divines in justification of their cruelties, and
when it is proved that it was especiaUy in support of the adora
tion of iraages and of relics, and the invocation of saints, that
these cruelties were perpetrated, it is impossible to deny that
there is a deep affinity of principles, indicated by our Lord when
he denounced, in one breath, the hypocrisy of the men who,
whfle they garnished the sepulchres of the Prophets, trod in the
steps of the murderers of the Prophets.

A prediction recorded hy three of the evangelists, * with a re
markable addition by one of them, seems to bear upon our pre
sent subject. The promise — ' In the regeneration (the restitution
of afl things) when the Son of raan shall sit in the throne of his
glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve
tribes of Israel' — raay, without difficulty, be understood as strictly
personal in its application, and therefore as being yet in abey
ance, waiting the bright day of its accomplishment, when the
Jewish race shall be restored, and the fulness of the gentfles shall
have come in. This special sense is, I befieve, assigned to the
passage by most commentators. But then such an interpreta
tion, by the rule of analogy, seems to carry with it a personal and
individual import, as belonging to some other often quoted pas-
sages,"!" from which interminable consequences have heen made to
proceed, as conferring upon the successors of the Apostles, to the
end of time, and upon those of Peter especially, powers which
would render a christian hierarchy the most irresponsible and
terrible of all despotisms. If the promise and prediction before
us be personal strictiy, why raay not other parallel proraises be
so understood ? I doubt whether it wiU be easy to raake good a
satisfactory ground of distinction between the two cases.
But if the promise is to be regarded as official, rather than
personal, and if it was given to the twelve as being the repre
sentatives of their successors throughout the course of time, then,
by the ' regeneration,' and by the phrase — ' the Son of man sitting
* Matt. xix. 28; Mark x. 29, 30; Luke xviii. 29, 30,
f John XX. 23, and similar places.

Christ's predictions and parables. 477
in the throne of his glory,' must be understood — the political
triumph of Christianity, under Constantine, when, in a lower
sense, the ' kingdoras of the world ' became ' the kingdoms of the
Lord, and of his Christ.' Thus interpreted, the promise may be
thought to have had its fulfilment (little as such a sense comports
with the spirit of the Gospel) in the extensive judicial functions
vested in the episcopal office, from the third century downwards ;
and in the vast wealth and regal splendour which surrounded the
bishops in all the principal sees.
But then, even allowing much latitude to our Lord's language,
it would seem at the very least to import that Christendom should
exhibit (and should continue to exhibit) something like a federation
of independent apostolic comraunities, simultaneously flourishing,
and enjoying, under its chiefs — if not literally twelve, yet more
than two or three, a nearly equal prosperity, and an equal perpe
tuity.* This very phrase — 'ye shall sit upon twelve thrones,'
formally excludes the supposition of a hierarchical monarchy, or
universal vicarship, absorbing all competitors. Whatever pre
eminence might be granted to one, as the chief of the twelve, the
words forbid our supposing that any one should so lord it over his
fellows as to supersede them — to occupy their provinces, and
to inherit, not merely the possessions of all, but the powers
of all.
An interpretation then which gives an official, not a personal
meaning to the promise, excludes the pretensions of the bishop
of Rome, as the single vicar of Christ on earth, and as the sole
centre of all spiritual authority. But in fact such an interpre
tation, beside its contrariety to the spirit of the Gospel, fails when
brought to the test of history. Several of the churches founded
by the Apostles became extinct very early, and long before their
bishops had enjoyed any visible power or prosperity : others sur
vived barely a century or two after the nicene age, and have long

* — ' dum una omnes probant unitatem ; dum est illis communicatio pacis,
et appellatio fraternitatis, et contesseratio hospitalitatis.' .... Tertullian de
Praescript. Haeret. St. Bernard holds another style in setting forth the supre
macy of Rome, and. the absolute submission due to it by every church under
heaven. ' Plenitudo siquidem potestatis super universas orbis ecclesias, singulari
praerogativa apostolicae sedi donata est.' Epist, 331.

478 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
ago mournfully given way to pagan or mahometan inroads:
others, if still extant, have sunk into a condition of utter inanity,
formalism, and superstition. To apply, either to the extinct
churches, or to those that survive in the East (better in truth
to the former than to the latter) the glowing language of this
prediction — and to speak, with such objects in view, of— ' the
regeneration,' and of ' the Son of man sitting in the throne of his
glory,' and of the successors of the Apostles as ¦ sitting upon
thrones,' were indeed to expose the divine promise to a melancholy
reprehension, and ourselves to scorn.
If then it be found impracticable to assign an official sense to
this prediction, and if it must be regarded as strictiy personal,
even when the import of it may justiy be applicable, in an ex
tended sense, to sufferers for Christ in all ages, then, as I think,
we shall he deprived of the attenuated reasons to which recourse
must be had in assigning an official and continuous sense to other
noted expressions. High church principles rest upon that sense
of the passages referred to. At the best this interpretation is
precarious, and inconclusive : weakened but a little, and it is
weakened more than a littie if shown to be untenable in an
analogous instance, it must be regarded with extreme anxiety
when made to sustain the enormous weight of a vast hierarchical
despotism. Those upon whom this anxiety presses cannot but
wistfully look to that exemption from care which is enjoyed by
their brethren of the romish church, which, by going the whole
length of the official interpretation of the words addressed to the
prince ofthe Apostles — an interpretation warranted too by 'catholic
consent,' stands clear at once of all ambiguities. To take refuge
within the pale of Rome is to be free frora doubts and annoyances,
of a thousand forms.

The prediction above referred to is almost the only one uttered
by our Lord, and relating to this world, which has decisively a
bright aspect ; and even this, if we take it as reported by one of the
evangelists,* is scored with a dark line. That He who came to
• Mark, who alone reports the words — ' with persecutions.'

Christ's predictions and parables. 479
realize the predictions of the Prophets, should have emboldened
his followers by so few words of hope, and should have taught
thera to look, in this world, for little else than mockery, hatred,
stripes, and cruel deaths, is a raost remarkable circumstance, never
to be lost sight of in its bearing upon the general argument in
proof of Christianity. But here we have to do with it as it bears
upon the now momentous inquiry — Where has been Christ's
church, during the lapse of many centuries ? Is she to he found
seated in the high places of visible power and pomp, ' ruling over
the kings of the earth,' swaying extensive empires, revelling in
wealth, and glutted with its dahities ; or, has she been as 'a
woman in the wilderness,' persecuted though not forsaken, wan
dering, weeping, and bleeding, in the desolate places where she
was to find a comfortless home ? If the church of Rome be the
church of Christ, then do his predictions give us no indication of
what was to be the course of events through the lapse of many
centuries. But if the victims of the church of Rome were Christ's
church, then do these predictions (confirmed by the absence of
any of a contrary import) prefigure, in the most convincing
manner, ' the things that were shortly to come to pass.'
But this alternative offers itself to our choice again in the two
discourses held by our Lord with his disciples immediately, or
soon, before his passion.
The discourse which fills the twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew's
gospel is formally prophetic : that reported by John, with the
prayer with which it concludes, may he regarded as really pro
phetic, although not obviously so ; and the two, taken together,
claira a peculiar iraportance, as containing Christ's final recorded
communication, at any length, with the Apostles, collectively.
It was these predictive conversations that were to seal upon their
minds the general tenor of whatever he had said to them in the
course of their official attendance upon him. To these they could
not but recur, as affording a sort of commentary upon all that had
gone before ; and from these they could not hesitate to derive,
conclusively, their own expectations of the order of events before
thera, even until ' the end should corae.'
The two discourses, brought into comparison, present an equal
dissimflarity of style, and of subject; and it is felt, as to the

480 THE visible CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
former (as recorded by the three evangelists) that it is altogether
of a piece with many other passages in the Gospels ; but as to the
latter (recorded only by one of them) that while, by the majesty
of its tone and the depth ofthe truths it embodies, it declares the
glory of him who had come frora the bosora of the Father, it is so
unlike other parts of our Lord's teaching, as to suggest the befief
that, in its purport or subject, it has respect to a deeper, or a
loftier, or a raore occult systera of things,
But if a sacred mysteriousness hangs over this discourse and
prayer, the discourse reported by the three evangefists has no
other mystery attaching to it than such as always belongs to pro
phecy, delivered in symbofic terms. The things or events spoken
of, whatever they raay be, and whether or not we may be able, to
our own satisfaction, to expound every part of it, are manifestly
such as fall within the range of our ordinary cognizance : — they
are things to be sought for on the surface, not in the depths. The
prediction concerns the visible condition of the followers of Christ
during a certain period of trial, and until the moment of the
sudden shifting of the present scene of things.
It is, I believe, generally allowed that, whatever specific refer
ence there may be in this prediction to the events which should
mark the next forty years, a far more extensive signification
attaches to it. The precise interpretation of this after sense I
have no wish to touch ; but there is yet a breadth of meaning in
the passage whic i one can hardly err in catching. It is as when,
in passing, with hurried steps, through a picture gallery, the eye
rests — does not rest — glances— npon some vast canvass, crowded
with heroic forms, and presenting violent contrasts of light and
shade : — one cannot read the story ; one cannot identify the
forms ; but, at the least, one receives an impression of the cha
racter of the painting, whether it be gay and delicious, or sombre
and terrific :~one knows, at the least, whether it represent the
triumphal progress of a king, at high noon, in front of palaces,
with gay colours flaunting in the sky ; or a gloomy battie-day,
enlivened only by flashes of fire, the glitter of steel, and the
crimson of ' garments rolled in blood.'
Such an impression — apart from all learned scrutiny, apart from
any conjectural interpretation of ambiguous symbols, assuredly

Christ's predictions and parables. 481
every ingenuous mind must receive from the passage before us.
Let the opening paragraph, or preamble of the prophecy (verses
4 — 14) be regarded — and there is reason for so regarding them,
as a bold outline of the entire course of events, from the mo
ment of the ascension, to that when a new order of things
should commence — ' the time of the end.' Now what are these
eleven verses but an abstract of church history, involving every
element ofthe various story; but of church history understood
in the sense — or as seen from the position, of the victims, first
of pagan, and then of papal Rome ! This sumraary is no
perspective of things as they might appear to an eye placed on a
pinnacle of the Vatican : instead of this, before we can recognise
the shadowy forms here sketched out, we must retrace the course of
time, and repair to the valleys of the Alps, or to the plains of
Languedoc, or to some similar scene of pious fidelity, and of wrong
ful suffering.
The adherents of the papacy may be free to say, that the
' false prophets ' who should arise, are the millions of heretics
whom it has been busy in burning, from age to age. Or, on the
other hand, protestants — true-hearted protestants, may attach
another set of names to the same designations ; so far, both
parties are entitled to advance their several interpretations with
equal pretensions; but not further; for a mark is attached to
the servants of Christ in this instance: they — taking the ordinary
course of things, are the sufferers for their testiraony; they
are those who are hated, and betrayed by their nearest rela
tives, on account of this testimony ; and a seal is set upon
each of them — Who is it that is on the Lord's side, in this
controversy of many centuries? — 'O vwoptivag elg reXog — he
who patiently endures elg riXog, under the extremest suf
ferings. Exceptive instances allowed for, and keeping our eye fixed
upon the characteristic doctrines and practices of the romish
church — as inherited from the nicene, we have to ask whe
ther, through the course of thirteen hundred years, the suffer
ing for conscience sake has been on the side of the adherents
of those dogmas and practices, or on the side of the impugners
of them? The answer to this question, which is a simple
K K

482 THE visible CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
matter of history, determines what otherwise might seera am
biguous. Or we may turn from the exordium, to the peroration of this
discourse, in search of what may exclude mistake in distinguishing
Christ's true servants from those who have falsely called themselves
by his name. Be it remembered then, that, to a church advancing
pretensions such as those on which the papacy founds its claims
to universal dominion, as Christ's representative on earth, mira
culously preserved in purity of doctrine, and rectitude of admi
nistration — to such a church, the proof of cruelty and of profligacy,
notoriously attaching to its chiefs, through a long course of time,
must be fatal. And yet, as no government on earth has been
so sanguinary as the papal, so no court so dissolute; — de
bauched, not at moments, but permanently. Here then are the
very marks of the Reprobate, given us for our guidance by
the Lord himself. The ' wicked servant ' is he who, inwardly
scorning the faith he professes, * smites his fellow servants, and
eats and drinks with the drunken.' Take the papacy in its
palmy state, and when it had more nearly realized its theory than
at any other time ; — take it when, if indeed the raind of the Lord
informed its rulers, they had in their hands the ample means of
embodying that mind. So take the romish church, and then look
at her portrait as drawn by the raost eminent, and the most
fondly devoted, of her sons. The very features of the ' wicked
servant ' are those that are first presented in this portrait. St.
Bernard, f urging upon his pupil Eugene III., mild measures, as
* The infidelity, or absolute atheism, prevailing at the court of Rome, from
the highest to the lowest of the clergy, has always been well understood. Such
Luther found it; such St. Bernard reports it (De Consideratione); and such,
in later times, have those affirmed it to be who have gone behind the scenes.
I St. Bernard, De Consideratione, together with his epistles to his pupil,
Eugene III., affords unexceptionable evidence as to the temper, condition,
and proper spirit ofthe papacy, at the time when its genuine character was the
least disturbed by any foreign interference. ' Scio ubi habitas,' says St. Bernard,
to pope Eugene, ' increduli et subversores sunt tecum.— Lupi non oves sunt.—
Dracones, inquis, me mones pascere, et scorpiones, non oves. Propter hoc
inquam, magis aggredere eos, sed verbo, non ferro.' In allusion to Ezekiel,
who was commanded to dig through the wall, that he might witness the ido
latries of the princes, St. Bernard says, ' Ego palpavi, non fodi parietem. Tibi
licet fodere, et videre, utpote prophetae filio. Mihi progredi non est fas.' An

Christ's predictions and parables. 483
better beseeming the character of the shepherd, is told, in reply,
that the sovereign pontiff, shepherd as he is called, can only so
behave himself as befits one who has the charge, not of sheep, but
of wolves, of serpents and of scorpions. At the same time, and
whfle it was no longer the staff, but the sword, that was used in
'smiting' the contumacious, the pontiff's court was the scandal
of Europe, and the scene of every shameless debauchery. And
these characteristics of violence abroad, and profligacy at florae,
have attached to the papacy throughout its history.
A vague acknowledgment that ' abuses and disorders will
attach, and always have attached, to the best institutions,' does
by no means meet, or turn off the edge of our present argument.
— Christ, for the guidance and comfort of his true followers in
every age, has left with thera certain characteristics of two con
stantly opposed communities, the struggle hetween which, under
various forms, should make up the history of his religion, until
' the tirae of the end.' These characteristics we have before us —
and history satisfies the prophetic portraiture. Christ's true fol
lowers — their temper and their lot, in this world ; or rather, their
lot in respect of the adverse power, are so depicted as to preclude
mistake; and Christ's enemy is not less clearly typified.

An immediate importance attaches to this proof of the character of the papacy
in its best age ; and with our Lord's words in mind, let the following be read :
Vbb generation! huic, a fermento Pharisaeorum, quod est hypocrisis! sj
tamen hypocrisis dici debet, quse jam latere prae abundantia non valet, et prse
impudentia non quaerit. Serpit hodie putida tabes per omne corpus Ecclesiae,
et quo latius, eo desperatius ; eoque periculosius, quo interius. Nam si in-
surgeret apertus inimicus haereticus, mitteretur foras, et aresceret ; si violen-
tus inimicus, absconderet se forsitan ab eo. Nunc vero quem ejiciet, aut a
quo abscondet se ? omnes amici, et omnes inimici : omnes necessarii, et omnes
adveisarii: omnes domestic!, et null! pacific! : omnes proximi, et omnes quae
sua sunt quaerunt. Ministri Christ! sunt, et serviunt antichristo. Honorat!
incedunt de bonis Domini, qui Domino honorem non deferunt. Inde is
quem quotidie vides meretricius nitor, histrionicus habitus, regius apparatus-
Inde aurum in frenis, in sellis, et calcaribus; et plus calcaria quam altaria
fulgent. Inde splendidae mensae et cibis et scyphis j inde comessationes et
ebrietates; inde cithara, et lyra, et tibia; inde redundantia torcularia, et
promptuaria plena, eructantia ex hoc in illud. Inde dolia pigmentaria, inde
referta marsupia. Pro hujusmodi volunt esse et sunt, ecclesiarum Praepositi,
Decani, Archidiaconi, Episcopi, Archiepiscopi. Nee enim haec merito cedunt,
sed negotio illi, quod perambulat in tenebris. — In Cantica, Serm. S3.
kk2

^8* the visible church  ACCORDING TO
To bring our conclusion home, it only remains to be said
that the themes of the controversy between the reprobate, cruel,
and dissolute papacy, and the suffering remonstrants, have been
principally the characteristic articles of the nicene church system ;
and, generally, the points now constituting what are called 'church
principles.'

The prophetic discourse above referred to, together with the
general strain of our Lord's teaching, presents, as we have said, a
contrast when compared with the valedictory conversation and
prayer recorded by John. This contrast involves an important
inference, and touches the principles now under discussion.
Clearly it might happen, as in some instances it has hap
pened, that, among those attached to Christ's true visible church,
and even suffering with his people, and maintaining a testimony
on his behalf against paganism, or an apostate church, there
might be some who are personally false hearted, or self de
ceived; such as shall in vain plead their having 'prophesied in
Christ's narae, and cast out deraons.' Whenever, in parable, or
explicitly, the visible church is spoken of, indication is given of
this circumstance, never to he forgotten, that the Gospel net
brings to shore ' good and bad ' — that, in the field of the Church,
the wheat and the tares grow together — that the vine has some
seared branches — that the fold often includes ' wolves in sheep's
clothing.' Now this mixture, which is to be a constant condition
of visible Christianity, implies, not only the intermingling, in the
Church, of individuals of opposite character, i. e. good men,
and bad men ; but also the admixture of errors, iraperfections,
ignorance, and delinquency, with better elements, in the tempers,
opinions, and conduct of the good. This latter condition also,
manifestly true as it is in fact, must be reraembered not less than
the former.
But now it is clearly from another point of view that the
christian body is presented to us in the signal discourse recorded
by John. Or rather, it is now another, and a more occult scheme
that is brought forward. Our Lord's style is not the same as in
ordinary instances : a depth, a majesty, and an absolute (or

Christ's predictions and parables. 485
unexceptive) mode of advancing truth distinguish this passage.
If the Church he spoken of, it is a church or body subject to
different conditions. A company is now addressed from which
the Judas had gone forth, and which was in God's sight what it
seemed to the eye of man. In recording this conversation, the
evangelist, even after he had mentioned the departure of the
traitor, carefully precludes mistake, by the short but weighty
parenthesis — ' Judas saith unto him, not Iscariot' A company
concerning which it could be affirmed, in absolute terms — ' All
mine are thine, and thine are mine' — an affirmation never
applicable to the purest visible church. ' They are not of the
world, even as I am not of the world ' — ' Father, I will that they
also which Thou hast given me, be with me where I am.' — ' I in
them, and Thou in me.' This is the company of whom, on
another occasion, it was said — ' This is the wfll of the Father
that hath sent rae, that of all which He hath given me I should
lose nothing;' or again — ' My sheep hear my voice; and I know
them, and am known of mine.'
Not to discern the essential distinction which sets these
passages off from others in which the visible church is spoken
of, is an inadvertence springing, probably, from serious errors in
theology, as well as from confused modes of thinking. And
then, on the ground of this inadvertence, to apply, interchangeably,
or as if they were convertible, to the true church what is spoken
of the visible, or to the visible church what belongs only to the
true, is a vice in exposition, fraught with the gravest ill conse
quences. To what an extent of illogical reasoning, and of
despotic interpretation, this fault has been carried by romanist
divines, is notorious. The sacred language of our blessed Lord,
in addressing his true disciples, has been constantly outraged
by popes, and their sycophants, in justification of the last enor
mities of tyrannical pride and rage. The very same fault,
though not carried to the same excesses, has been fallen into
by the intolerant of aU comraunions — by high churchmen, of
all creeds; and it is an error that appears in all the practical
applications that are made of ' church principles,' to christian
communities. 'The Lord knoweth them that are is:' none but He can

486

THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO

know them. It is the prerogative which, in the most solemn
terms, he claims as his right, ' to search the reins and the heart;'
and when he says ' aU the churches shall know,' that it is he
alone who can thus 'judge according to truth," it is plainly
indicated that every visible church, or community of professed
christians, shall, in frequent instances, be compelled to acknow
ledge that they have erred in their judgment concerning indivi
duals: — that is to say, that they have at once accredited false
members, and, by uncharitable and unwarrantable decisions;
whether administrative or legislative, have excluded from their
fellowship some of Christ's true disciples. Either by an admini
stration of church affairs, at once lax, and despotic, or capricious ;
or by legislative measures imposing improper terms of com
munion, every visible church has included many whom it ought
to have expelled, and has excluded some — perhaps raany, whom
it ought to have embraced. The true church, and the visible,
are never precisely coincident, as to their members respectively ;
and, at some times, the discrepancy has been so great as to go
near to the unchurching of the church.
That such a discrepancy, varying in its extent in the course of
time, must always exist, is manifest from the nature of the case.
Even those innocent misjudgments to which the most upright
minds are liable, would be enough to deprive the purest visible
church of a claim to represent precisely the true church. No
arrogance is so impious as that of a body pretending to be one
and the same as the true church : such a pretension, in fact,
involves a trenching upon the divine prerogative. Who is this
that dares to snatch from the hand of the Lord the right which he
has formally reserved to himself?
But what are the conditions of the visible church, as indicated
by the Lord himself, under a variety of symbols ? Within the
visible community of Christ's professed disciples, there is to be
a mixture, not only of good men, and bad men, in an absolute
sense ; but also of truth and of error, abstractedly, in the
system of opinions current in such a community ; and more
over, a mixture of virtues and of faults, of wisdom and of folly,
in the conduct, and teraper, and principles, of the best men.
Will any one dare to deny the fact of these several kinds of

Christ's predictions and parables. 487
mixture, in every church that has hitherto existed ? Now unless
we assume, in behalf of the heads of a church, a miraculous
interposition, excluding the operation of ordinary causes, it
may sometimes happen, and no doubt will happen, in times of
decay and corruption, and especially if the Church have drawn to
herself the baits of worldly ambition — wealth and power, that its
false-hearted members have thrust themselves forward into the
seat of authority ; while the humble and the sincere, shoved
to the wall, are at the mercy of the profligate and the despotic.
Abstractedly, such things must sometiraes come about : in fact,
church history is filled and deformed with instances of this very
kind. Then, on the side of the feeble and oppressed — right as they
may be in the main, there will be found a little, or more than a
little of enthusiasm, wrought up by ill treatment to a fanatical
heat. What the issue of a collision between two such parties
will be, it is not hard to say. On the one side, there will be
acts of violence and cruelty; unrighteous decrees — exertions of
authority overstretching very far the true limits of church power,
and violating the unalienable rights of conscience: — there may
be, and probably will be such encroachments upon the liberty
wherewith Christ has made his people free, as cannot be sub
mitted to by men fearing God. On the other side there may he
exaggerated notions of what conscience demands, and just such
an obliquity of spiritual vision, as would render an adjustment of
the difference between the two parties extremely difficult, or
even impracticable, although attempted by the wisest and the
best of men.
Thus do disorder, misrule, and partition, come in upon the
visible church; and, as an inevitable consequence, the visible
church becomes continually less and less nearly coincident with
the true church} and, in the same proportion, it becomes less
and less safe to take the visible church as the representative of
the true ; and less aud less justifiable to read aloud the muster
roll of the visible church, as if it tallied with the Book of Life !
After divisions have taken place — culpable on both sides, and
springing frora the very condition of the visible church, as
embracing elements of good and evfl — after such divisions have

488 THE visible church — ACCORDING TO
occurred, and especially when they have become inveterate,
those, on either side, who claim the right to unchurch the other,
add the guflt of an outrageous impiety to their particular share,
whatever it may be, of the sin of schism.
On no ground but that of InfallibiUty— an infallibflity covering
every administrative decision and every legislative decree, can
any visible church he justified in speaking of itself as precisely
coextensive with the true church; or in denouncing as 'no
church,' another christian community, holding the first principles
of faith, and yielding, in a fair measure, the fruits of righteous
ness. And here let it be especiaUy remarked that, while the
criteria of individual membership in the true church are of a
permanent, and of an inimitable sort, on the contrary, the criteria
of a true visible church, or those ecclesiastical distinctions on the
ground of which we might safely speak of a certain community as
a church, and of another as not so, are in their nature precarious,
and are liable to many intricate ambiguities, and often, in fact,
involve some attenuated historical and legal reasoning, to apply
thera to instances. In other words, it wfll alraost always be
far easier to deterraine the question — who is a true christian,
than — which is the true visible church.
We have only now to imagine a not improbable case ;
naraely, that, in consequence ofthe raisjudgraents, and arbitrary
and capricious decisions, and the perversity and pertinacity
of the men of a past age, extreme confusion and perplexity, and
an intricate intermixture of principles has long affected the
ecclesiastical condition of a community. In fact, that the
christian mass has, by a complication of faults, errors, and fll
accidents, been shivered, so that an irregular line of fracture has
run through the substance, leaving portions of truth, and frag
ments of error, on either side of the chasm. Such a state of
things we may imagine, as that wise, calm, and temperate men —
men fearing God, may be rauch perplexed in choosing their part,
and may even err in that choice.
Meantime let us suppose that the great and unchanging ele
ments of the Gospel have, by the divine favour, taken effect anew
upon men's minds, in all directions; and that, in consequence of
such a refreshment from above, individuals on all sides afford

CHRIST S predictions AND PARABLES.

489

unquestionable evidences, in their life and temper, that they are
• new creatures in Christ Jesus ; ' being filled, manifestly so, with
faith, and abounding in good works, and affording, by ' a con
tinuance in weU doing,' such proofs of personal discipleship as
are not to be questioned without impiety, as well as uncharitable
ness. Under any such supposed condition of a christian country,
whfle the evidences of personal piety had become, in very many
instances, indisputable, and, at the same moment, ecclesias
tical ambiguities were of a peculiarly perplexing kind, it must
surely indicate the very temper of the blind zealot who ' knows
not what spirit he is of,' to reject the clearer species of proof, and
to insist upon the more obscure : that is to say, to judge of men
according to an ecclesiastical rule, that rule being itself flawed ;
and to spurn the permanent and hardly fallacious criterion of
christian faith and conduct.
To have taken so venturous a course even in the earliest age,
substituting the worse criterion for the better, and while the
visible church was the most clearly marked off from competitors,
would have been unjustifiable : — to do so at this time of day, and
after the convulsions and the indiscretions of eighteen centuries
have shed perplexity over all ecclesiastical questions — to do so
now, and to unchurch, and unchristianize christian men, whose
faith is pure, and whose conduct is exemplary, to do this, or
even to murmur out the desire to do it, is proof of a tendency
of mind, which, considered in its relation to the light of modern
times, might well be exchanged for the temper of Ferdinand's
inquisitors. Looking to his future reckoning before the dread
tribunal of the Righteous Judge, a man had much better have
been racking and burning heretics, in the fifteenth century, than
growling against christian people, in the nineteenth.
All this may be said without in the least degree disparaging
the just pretensions of sorae one church, or form of government,
as intrinsically better than any other. The best pretensions of
this sort involve some abstract argumentation, not appreciable by
all minds, and some critical inquiries, of which but few can be
masters, and some historical statements, of a recondite, and
perhaps questionable quality ; and perhaps, some political or
economic accessory consideration, which religious minds may be

490 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
reluctant to listen to. All such reasons of preference, moreover,
how sound soever they may be, are liable to become less and less
distinct, or convincing, by relative changes that are taking place
among surrounding bodies.
Meantime the individual demonstration of christian character
— the direct proof that such and such persons are members of the
true church — are Christ's genuine disciples, is not of a variable
sort, nor intricate, nor dependent upon research ; and it is, as
one may say, gushing fresh frora its proper springs, in each single
instance. It is therefore what must he happening within the
christian pale continually, that the proof of the christian character
of individuals — that proof which appeals immediately to our
christian sympathies (if we have any) appears, as indeed it really
is, incomparably stronger than the argumentative proof of the
superiority of some one visible church. Whenever such jarrings
of the two kinds of proof take place, as when christian excel
lence is found out of the pale of a church making high pre-
tensions, the minds of men are driven to the alternative, either of
violating, in a dangerous manner, their best convictions, or, of
compromising high church doctrines.
Consistent jomanists have no way of escape left for thera from
the horrible necessity of blaspheming the Holy Spirit in his
operations on the hearts of men, and of coolly consigning entire
communities, including the most eminent individuals, to eternal
perdition. When pious romanists are thus driven over this pre
cipice of horror by their theory, one averts the eye frora the sad
spectacle. Execrable theory which forced such blasphemy from
the lips of Fenelon and Pascal !
Our modern professors of high church principles, if they evade
the frightful impiety of denying the possibility of salvation to
dissidents, one and all, do so only by the help of subterfuges, of
that quality which, when they are met with on the common walks
of life, draw contempt upon whoever resorts to them, and to
which has been assigned the significant terra sneaking. In a
free christian country, high church doctrines can be worn in no
other way than as a man might wear — in-doors and out, a tower
ing tuft borrowed from a peacock's tail, which he must doff and
re-adjust, every time he passes from one chamber to another.

CHRIST S PREDICTIONS AND PARABLES.

491

' Christian folks may be christian folks, out of our church ; —
oh yes — for the mercies of heaven are infinite! — but they are so
by a sort of miracle, for they possess no ministry of the word, no
sacraments, no regeneration, no covenanted forgiveness of sins,
and can claim no viaticum.' But now here meets us a difficulty.
— To have compromised principles so far as to have granted that
people out of the Church may be saved, is a dangerous, and an
expensive act, which, if too often repeated, must bring the theory
itself into a precarious position. Yet this is not the worst ; — so
true it is that one false step involves another, and a more fatal
one. If once we allow that men out of the Church may yet be
christians, we leave an opening for that sort of evidence which
may tend to prove that such unchurched christians are, sorae of
them, eminent christians — christians such as that, if we could but
make intimate acquaintance with them without being apprised of
the fact of their being still unregenerate, and that they have never
tasted the bread of life, we should, without a doubt, think thera
worthy of our highest regard. Or, to state the perplexing case in
another manner : — two christian raen may be introduced to us,
concerning whose ecclesiastical condition we know nothing : —
we admire the teraper and conduct of both — we know not which
of the two to prefer — in fact, we cannot discriminate the Christi
anity of the one, from that of the other. But at length out comes
the tremendous secret, that, while M. N. is of the church, X. Y.
is of none ! We look again, and in alarm, at the two specimens,
and yet, do what we will, are foiled in the endeavour to fix
upon any solid moral or spiritual quality, present in the one —
wanting in the other, which should indicate the vast disparity
between a living member of the Church, and an outcast.
Now while the first comproraise of our theory impairs it more
than a little, this practical dflemma, to which it has brought us,
seems to evaporate it altogether. No language has terms em
phatic enough for setting forth the ineffable efficacy of those
means of grace which ihe church, and the church exclusively, is
empowered to convey ; and yet, bring this alleged efficacy to a
practical test in the instance of individuals, enjoying, and not
enjoying this advantage, and we dare not undertake, by the sole
aid of it, to distinguish one christian man from another!' We

492 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
have been saying that the atmosphere, in certain districts, is
destitute of the vital element ; but when we place side by side
two individuals, one of whom has always breathed genuine air,
whfle the other has been dragging on a dying life upon nothing
better than azote, they appear equally ruddy, they are equally
robust, they are equally happy : — the one can stand under as
heavy a burden as the other, and can run as fast, and as far :
what then will most men think of our chemical intolerance,
in denying the vitality of the air which the one of them has
breathed ?
It can excite no surprise that, in the first age, when so many
causes concurred to keep the visible church in close coincidence
with the true (although they were never identical) the im
portant distinction between the two should alraost be lost sight
of, and that a usage should prevail of eraploying the phrase
proper to each, convertibly, until a feeling had grown out of this
confusion which wanted nothing but provocation to ripen it into
the fiercest intolerance. What, in Clement of Rorae, or Ignatius,
or even Irenaeus, was little more than the inobservance of a
distinction which ought to have been better regarded, became, in
Cyprian, a haughty sentiment, generating despotisra, and aggra
vating schism ; in Jerome and Ambrose it was a pride of power,
seeking to satiate an insatiable revenge, in the destruction of dis
sidents. Carried on only a little further, until the Church had
firmly grasped her ' two swords,' and then the egg burst into a
crocodile : — The simple error of the apostofic bishops, received its
large interpretation in those papal edicts which consigned entire
nations to destruction.
Inasmuch as nothing which is human can rest very long
precisely on the same foundations, it could not but happen that
the two centres— that of the true, and that of the visible church,
should be shifting their relative position, from age to age. It
must follow therefore, as a general rule, that the coincidence
wiU be inversely as the distance of tirae. Unhappily, church
authorities have almost always assumed the coincidence to be
permanent. This unwarrantable assumption has been the text
of ecclesiastical arrogance, and the axiora of persecution. Call in
question this axiom, and then what are the proceedings of the

CHRIST S PREDICTIONS AND PARABLES.

493

Holy Office — already condemned by every principle of the Gospel,
of abstract morality, and of political reason? they are not more
wicked, than they are absurd.
But the auto-da-fe of the holy office is nothing but the full
ripe fruit of that tree, of which the sap is—' church principles :' in
other words, the appropriation, to a particular visible church, in a
late age, of what belongs only to the true church, or universal
body of genuine christians. This tree may happen to have been
planted in a shallow soil, where it never could show a proud
head ; or it may have stood exposed to the huffing gusts of poli
tical liberty, which have blighted its blossoms, year after year ;
but the tree is the tree — the sap is the same succus amarus, and
we may certainly know what will come of it, in sunshine and
shelter, even although, at present, there be nothing more to alarm
us than the rustling of its melancholy foliage in Oxford Tracts
for the Times ; or than the plaintive sighs of the Lyra Apostolica
despondingly hung upon its branches.*

The well established traditionf concerning the gospel of Mark,
that it was written under the eye, or at the instance of Peter, and
submitted to his revision, may justly be considered as giving a
peculiar importance to those passages in which this evangelist
adds incidents or expressions, not found in the other narratives of
our Lord's ministry: and il generally so, peculiarly in the two
or three instances where Christ's very words could not but have
been indelibly impressed upon the memory and heart of the
* The ' Lyra Apostolica ! ' Beautiful as are many of these compositions,
the collection, breathing smothered vengeance as it does, and ill disguis
ing the rancour of disappointed political ambition, must be regarded as alto
gether the most ominous of all the publications issued under the auspices
of the Oxford Tract writers. Men whose bosoms are heaving with violent
suppressed emotions are wont to mutter their real purposes in sleep. Poetry
is the language of men's waking dreams, and may often be taken as a
truer indication of their designs, than their prose, or than their colloquial dis
course. Render some of these lyrics into homely prose, and they mean what
would differ very little from the high church doings of 1715, and 45; not to
say of 1555.
t Eusebius collects and reports these traditions, which are confirmed by
other evidence.

494 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
Apostle. Should not Peter well remember the very last words
addressed to the eleven — the awful sounds in uttering which he
was ' parted frora them, and received up into heaven? ' But our
Lord's final instructions, as reported by Mark, contain what the
other evangelists have omitted; and these superadded words,
whatever other inference may attach to thera, surely stand as a
caution, which should lead us to look well to all the circumstances
of the case, when we are endeavouring to distinguish between
what is official and perpetual, and what was personal and tempo
rary in Christ's addresses to the Aposties. There can be no
doubt of the universality and perpetuity of that which, in this
instance, the evangelists (the three who narrate the events) agree
to record. But Mark reports what cannot be so regarded, but
which must be held to have been spoken with a limitation under
stood ; inasmuch as no one supposes the perpetuity of miraculous
gifts, or would deny that to be a saving faith which is not con
firmed to the individual by miracles. Or do we mean to admit
the pretension of the papacy, claiming a perpetual current of
miraculous powers ?
— If not, then it is inevitable that we should exercise dis
crimination in expounding our Lord's addresses to his personal
followers ; and in each such instance it must be regarded as an
open question — ' Were such and such words addressed to the
Apostles personally, or officially?' To assume the latter as of
course, is unwarrantable and dangerous, and is the fruit of an
eager and presumptuous temper, and will lead to the arrogance
which has so often impelled feeble and sinful raan to snatch at the
prerogatives of the Most High.
I am not about to expound those noted passages which have
been used as the engine of spiritual despotism, but wfll affirm
that the burden of proving, in an irrefragable manner, that they
carry an official and perennial meaning, rests upon whoever affirms
it to be so ; and that, until such proof be afforded, it is our wisdom
rather to assume the contrary. And yet, it will by no means
follow that even the most limited of the proraises or instructions
addressed by our Lord to the twelve, or to the seventy, bear no
meaning that is continuous,- or such as may not, in any sense, be
adopted by, and raade to apply to, his ministers in aU ages. It

Christ's predictions and parables. 495
is the very characteristic of Infinite Wisdom to bring all things
individually into a relation with all other things, so as to waste
nothing, how special soever it may be. Take what instance we
please frora among the infcidental instructions given by our Lord
to his followers, and we may find it to be related, by some abstract
analogy, with what is permanent in the great economy of the
spiritual world. As in so many cases, so in this, we are safe only
whfle sobriety and discretion are strictly adhered to. The romanist
writers have not allowed even the raost inconsiderable recorded
incident, relating to the ' Prince of the Apostles,' to escape them
which, by aid of barefaced ingenuity, might seem to favour the
pretensions of his successors. The extent to which this sort of
audacity has been carried ought, surely, to be a caution to our
selves, when we may be tempted to advance on the same path.
Did Peter cast his fisher's coat about him, when he threw himself
into the sea to meet his Master ? Then Peter's successors, when
, they tread the troubled waters of the Church, in stormy times, are
to be regarded not as mere men — or naked individuals, but as
wrapped in the fisher's coat — the coat of office, as the lords of all
fish. Was Peter commanded, after having tofled all night, to
cast his net on the other side of the ship? — Yes, the East and the
West — both sides of ihe ship (the church) are Peter's province.
Did Peter draw his ship ashore, when he had filled it with a
miraculous draught ? — the lake — the waters — is the Church ; —
the shore — the land — is temporal dominion. Peter, therefore, as
often as he pleases, may strand his boat upon the secular terra
firma, and use it at his pleasure. Did Peter say, ' Lo, here are
two swords ? ' Peter then, or his meek representatives, may
rightfully wield the sword of iron, as well as the sword of the
spirit, and of the word.* So easy have ambitious fanatics
* Some of these ingenious fancies are to be found in Gregory the Great,
and many in St. Bernard; but it is Innocent III. who drives this trade with
the least shame. It is impossible to give him credit for any sort of honesty in the
expositions which he advances with so grave a face. Ihave referred above
to the Lyra Apostolica, mingling as it does the softest strains of gentle piety,
with the smooth rancour of the holy office  A mixture of this very sort is
the characteristic of the Letters of this pope — alternately the lamb and the
wolf— rather, we should say, the hyaena. What more soft and paternal than
his consolatory letter to the prior of Canterbury (lib. i. epist. 436), and in

496 the VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
found it to stretch Scripture over any enormity. But shall
not men fearing God, take care to keep clear of any such
impiety ?
' Take neither scrip, nor purse, nor staff, nor two coats, for
your journey ; for the labourer is worthy of his hire.'— A special
instruction, plainly, addressed to certain persons, and limited in
its application to a particular occasion ; just as was the command
to ' heal the sick, raise the dead, cast out demons.' Nevertheless,
two universal principles, if not more, are involved in even this
temporary injunction ;— first, that the maintenance of the ministers
of religion is a matter of right; and secondly, that, on all occasions
generally, and on extraordinary occasions peculiarly, it becomes
Christ's servants to exhibit the mind that was in their master,
and to throw themselves upon their work, irrespectively of
worldly calculations or anxieties, concerning their support.
On the ground then of this principle of analogy, which allows
even what is the most strictly personal to be carried out toward
a universal application, we may hold such passages as that,
' whosesoever sins, &c.' to have been addressed to the Apostles
personally, in their plenary import, and yet to involve a wider
meaning, of which Christ's ministers, in all ages, may avail thera
selves lawfully. It raay be then an equal error to say, with the
church of Rorae, that there was nothing exclusively personal in
the power conveyed by these words; or to say, with certain ultra
protestants, that there was nothing official and perraanent. Taking
the middle course, with the english church, we have only to use
a religious caution on that side where the danger is most immi
nent — namely, on the side of presumption — the side on which the
papacy has so frightfully outraged refigion and morality.
Two churches, employing the sarae phrases in apparently the
sarae sense, are to be judged of according to the interpretation
which they are seen to put upon such expressions, in the actual
working of their systems respectively. Thus the church of Rome
understands the words 'Whosesoever sins,' as in the most absolute
reading it one would really think the Church of that day to have been a poor
persecuted outcast, in this evil world. Read only the two epistles immediately
preceding, addressed to the bishops of Lincoln and Ely, and that to king
Richard! or read those directed against the heretics of Languedoc!

Christ's predictions and parables. 497
sense which they can possibly bear ; and as investing the priests,
or the Church, not merely with an irresponsible control over the
eternal destinies of men, but with an exchangeable interest in
pardon. Pardon being, at once, the most scarce, and the most
indispensable of all commodities, and the Church enjoying a
monopoly of it, would seem to put a contempt upon her privilege,
if she did not make her utmost advantage of it. The traffic in
pardon is then the romish sense of the words in question. A
prudent regard to opinion at particular times, may indeed repress
this traffic, or may reduce this sale of the opium of consciences
to the furtive silence of a contraband commerce ; but the com
merce itself is the church's doctrine, as well as her fiscal engine.
But has the church of England ever sold pardons ? — Does she
teach her ministers to think that the forgiveness of sins is their
fee simple, which they may let out, for their personal benefit ?
No such practice. has ever disgraced her; and her founders have
left on record the expression of their lively abhorrence of any
such doctrine. Her doctrine on this point, she daily, solemnly,
and clearly, professes, and she so surrounds her profession with
passages of Scripture, as might preclude any misunderstanding of
that doctrine.
Let it, however, be remembered that money is not the only
thing that may be accepted in exchange for absolution. A vague
homage, which some men may value more than they would
money, may be taken in payment of absolution — such a homage,
we say, ^s is indirectly convertible into money, or into rank,
the equivalent of money. A man who would shudder at the
thought of doing that which popish priests in Ireland are always
doing — granting absolution for the value of a pig, or of half
a pig, or of a pig's face (according to the estimated ability of
the sinner) — a man who would abhor to sell pardon, may yet be
industriously imbuing all around him with notions so lofty, of
his control over pardon, as may effectively reduce them to a
condition of anxious dependence upon his wfll, or caprice,
and may lift himself into the position of their spiritual master.
And when once this has been done, it is always found that, by
an insensible transmutation — a transmutation which the purest
intentions cannot stay, spiritual lordship converts itself into

498 the visible church — according to
secular rank ; and secular rank, how carefully soever we may
disguise the plain fact, has always its appreciable value as
worth — so much money. If Irish priests do not get rank in
payment for absolution, it is because they do accept money ; nor
are they so unreasonable as to expect to be paid twice over for
the same article.
Ingenuous men wfll not deny that the power of absolution
vested in the priest, when it comes to he enhanced and
exaggerated, after the fashion of Rome, not merely may confer
upon the clergy a something worth, in a secular sense, so
much money ; but that it must at length bring about some such
convertible importance, attaching to the clerical character. The
very men who would resent it as the grossest imaginable insult
to propose to them, in the most indirect manner, a pecuniary
remuneration, as the quid pro quo of absolution, may yet be
buflding up and fortifying their position in 'society, by the
means of spiritual pretensions, on this very ground ; — which
position is, according to ordinary secular modes of calculation,
worth such or such an income, even although the barter were
never actually effected.
It is easy to imagine that the romish church might see it to be
her interest, under peculiar circumstances, to prohibit, altogether,
even the most indirect traffic in pardon. Retaining the whole of
her doctrine on the subject, she might yet choose to take from
the people something which she would like as well as money,
and something which she might accept with less offence, and
which she would know how to bring to market, at some remote
point of her political machinery. But would she become a purer
church merely in consequence of some such arrangement ? Other
things than a purse may pass froin one hand to another in a
meretricious bargain.
The vast and vital difference between the church of Rorae and
the english church, respecting the priest's power of absolution, is
not to he maintained, broad and inviolate as it ought, merely by
an avoidance of the traffic in pardon. For, just in proportion
as the doctrine of absolution is vaguely insisted upon, and is
lifted into a position of awful importance — just so far as any
body of clergy show themselves to be leaning toward the most

Christ's predictions and parables. 499
extreme interpretation which can b^ put upon the language of
their church, just so far are they investing themselves with a
dignity — spite even of their own endeavours to the contrary (if
they make any) which must, after a Very little time, come round
to them in some form of secular advantage — an advantage if not
convertible into money, yet measurable by that standard.
Humble minded men, fearing God — the true and well in
structed ministers of Christ — knowing the fatal tendency of the
human mind to shift its religious responsibilities, and to get
a pardon at second hand — such men, informed too of the frightful
abuses, which in every age have accompanied exaggerated notions
on this very point — such men, full of the spirit that animated the
reformers and founders of the english church, will be very slow to
signalize themselves as the champions and revivers of the doctrine
of the priest's power of absolution. Such men, on the contrary,
will hardly think that they have ever said enough in guarding
their flocks against delusions so easily fallen into, and so fatal, as
those now in question.
I have already adverted to an instance or two, in which,
manifestly, our Oxford Tract divines have taken their lesson from
modern romanism, rather than from their professed masters, the
nicene fathers. We have now before us another such instance ; for
it would be easy to show that, in reference to the power of abso
lution, the writers of these tracts and their coUeagues assume a
style unknown to the early fathers, and not ventured upon until
after the papacy, in consolidating her tyranny, had felt that she
must be impudent in her impieties.

In another signal instance the evangelist Mark records an ex
pression not mentioned by the other three, although sustained by
equivalent passages in their narratives. ' Go ye into all the
world,' said our Lord as he left the earth, ' and preach the Gospel
to every creature.' — Proclaim as heralds, the glad tidings (of sal
vation) to every child of Adam !
Such is the apostolic commission, as understood and remem
bered by Peter. Whatever other means of extending the Gospel
L L 2

500 THE visible church — according to
or of consolidating Christianity in a country already evangelized,
may be sumraarily included in the phrase ' discipling all nations,
aud teaching them,' it is clear that the prominent part of the
apostolic office was — the going forth among all nations, to an
nounce, not merely a future life, or the first principles of theism
and ethics, but, especiaUy, the joy-giving message of remission of
sins, through the propitiatory work of Christ. This is — the
Gospel ; and to preach this gospel, unrestrainedly, and until all
men shall have heard it, is the first and permanent duty of Christ's
servants — of the Apostles, and of those who were to take up the
unfinished work, to the end of time.*
If, as Paul tells us, • God hath set in the Church,' over all, and
before all, ' first. Apostles,' the foremost duty of these chief officers
of Christ's kingdom is — to preach the gospel; — to move hither
and thither, to give themselves no rest, until a testiraony has
everywhere been borne to the divine placahflity toward offending
man and until ' the grace which bringeth salvation,' has actually
'appeared unto all men.' The merciful God, who soleranly
declares that ' he hath no pleasure in the death of the wicked,' and
' who hateth nothing that he hath made,' and who ' wills that all
men should corae to the knowledge of the truth,' and who ' hath
sent his Son to be the Saviour of the world' — he has, in the
clearest terras, laid a perpetual command upon his commissioned
servants, to be always going forth, as it were pursuing guilty and
wretched men into every corner where they may be hiding their
misery and shame, and compelling them to hear, at least, the
command of their Creator, Judge, and Saviour, 'to repent and
believe the Gospel.'
So long as there are tribes of the human family destitute of the
rudiraents of saving knowledge, this all-coraprehensive injunction
must, in the very nature of things, take the lead among the duties,
and be the weightiest of the responsibilities of the christian ministry.
So long as these words stand in the canon of Scripture — ' go
YE forth' — and so long as there are men who, as vet, have
neither received, nor so much as heard of the Gospel, it can never
be permitted to the ministers of Christ to sit at home, making
* St. Bernard (de Consideratione) does not absolve even a pope, from the
duty of preaching the Gospel.

CHRIST S PREDICTIONS AND PARABLES.

501

no effort to gather the outcasts of mankind. The best devised and
the most strenuous efforts may be baffled for a time ; but they
must be renewed and continued. There can be no remission in
this work, for the coramand has been issued without a qualifica
tion ; the duty is not hypothetical, but absolute ; and it reaches
to every individual christian, so far as his abiUty, and opportunity,
and cafling, may extend ; and those who can neither go forth, nor
could preach if they did, may yet, in more ways than one, and
especially by dedicating ' mamraon ' to the Lord, help forward,
' after a godly sort,' those who do go, and whose cafling it is to
preach. Nothing can stand further removed from the range of sophistical
ambiguities, than does this permanent duty — apportioned to every
one, according to his several abflity. Thus, by the best men
in all ages, have our Lord's last words been understood. A
feeling and principle opposed (whether insidiously or irapudentiy)
to this injunction, or tending to obstruct it in its operation, or
to check and damp the zeal of those who might carry it into
effect, is — let it be weU understood, of modern origin, and
is the characteristic of that dark jealousy which curdles in
gloomy bosoms, at tiraes when the blessings of Christianity are
seen to be spreading, or are likely to spread, at a greater rate
than ecclesiastical arrogance thinks it can follow, and beyond
the limits within which its grudging jurisdiction is submitted to.
We have already touched this momentous topic ; but have a
word more to say upon it — a word due to the christian zeal
of our times, which the Oxford Tract writers wquld paralyze,
and due to the christian zeal of the earlier ages, which they, whfle
professing to reverence and follow, are calumniating. — It is we
now, not they, who are the disciples of the fathers.
The experience of aU ages — the churches of Galatia giving the
first instance of the kind, proves that a few false steps set toward
superstition, formalism, aud will worship, are enough to alienate
the minds of men from the simplicity of the Gospel, impelling
them first to subvert its principles, and then to obstruct its
progress : — the former, as first in order of time, so in logical
order : the latter, not until aiiet a reaction of sorae kind has taken
place. Thus the nicene church, although its thousand superstitions

502 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
destroyed the simplicity of the Gospel, did not set itself in oppo
sition to the spread of the Christianity which it retained. This
deeper guilt was not incurred until after the apostate church had
been roused to terror by the reappearance of pure Christianity in
the world.
One is amazed, sometimes, in seeing that the sagacity of men
who show theraselves not at all deficient, generally, in that quality,
does not lead them to shun, in their own case, those particular
marks of a vicious system, which make it easy to fix it upon them
personally. One wonders, for instance, that certain eminent un
believers have not known how to deny themselves those expres
sions of cold-hearted selfishness and profligacy which have stamped
their doctrine as inimical to huraan happiness : — one wonders too
that the proraoters of the papacy were not more wise and fore
seeing than to inscribe upon its front the very words which have
marked it as the predicted apostasy ! But, in fact, these striking
indications spring always from deep analogies ; and they are
moreover so overruled by God, as to afford to his people the ready
means of discerning, for their own comfort and safety, the genuine
frora the spurious. In this way it may well excite some surprise,
and it is worthy of observation, that the divines with whom at
present we have to do, should have committed so great an error
in the management of their cause, as that, while labouring to
revive the notions aud practices of the fourth century, they have
plainly marked themselves with the avowal of feelings which are
specifically characteristic of the despotism of so late a time as the
thirteenth !
This indiscretion has been fallen into unconsciously ; and, as
being an unconscious error, it implies no direct ill intention :
on the contrary, it may consist with religious integrity and
honour : — it is but a symptom of the infatuation which, through a
long course of ages, has marked the rise and progress of that
great delusion whereof popery is a particular form. In the signal
tract above referred to (No. 80) as we have seen, these divines
have spoken the language of the very worst times, in relation to
the diffusion of religious knowledge, and have placed theraselves
in the worst company, and in opposition to the entire catena
patrum, down to a late period. We are not to wonder then that

Christ's predictions and parables. 503
a feeling is more than dimly expressed concerning those first
truths of Christianity which have never been found to consist with
high church principles, or with the asceticism and superstition
that attend such principles.
I have had frequent occasion to remind the reader that what
the nicene and the romish church have done, was not to impugn
directly any of the great articles of Christian faith : — far from it ;
each article is, in its turn, honoured by a reverent recognition.
What has been done is, first, to supersede or dislodge great truths ;
and then to find specious pretexts for keeping them always out of
sight (or out of the view of the people) or for not saying too much
about them. And this too is the course taken by the Oxford
Tract writers. Very far are they frora assafling, or from wishing
to depreciate, the one great truth which makes the Gospel, a
gospel. They render a devout, and I doubt not a sincere homage
to this truth — the doctrine of the atonement — and so have done
many zealous dealers in indulgences. But the laws of attraction
and repulsion are universal and invincible, as well in the spiritual
as in the material world. A deep antipathy reciprocally repels
the gospel, and a religion of asceticism, superstition, and sacra
mental efficiency. Never have the two systems been combined,
although often they have been tightly hound together by stringent
creeds, in the same church-bundle. The epistle to the Galatians
turns entirely upon this irreconcilable contrariety between God's
refigion, and man's religion. Whoever therefore adheres to the
latter, finds himself, as if by an irresistible hand, drawn away
frora the forraer : a dread fatality pursues him from step to step
of his course ; — he hiraself struggles against what he feels to be an
ominous tendency : — he wistfully returns, twenty times, to a
point nearer to the foot of the cross, and as often is borne away,
as on the bosora of a smooth river toward a cataract.
This struggle, this looking back, and hurrying onwards, gives a
comfortless inconsequence to the whole of the tract in question,
and especiaUy to the section ' On the (supposed) necessity of
bringuig forward the doctrine of the Atonement ; ' in which is ex
hibited the melancholy writhing of a mind well intentioned and
devout, under the conscious discordance of the system it passion
ately clings to, with God's truth.

504 the visible church — according to
— ' Go forth into all the world, and preach the gospel to every
creature.' Now let it be granted to the Oxford Tract writers that
what our Lord here meant by — the gospel was, precisely — nicene
Christianity, that is to say, an austere ascetic phflosophy, a celestial
stoicism, turning upon such articles as — the merit of virginity —
the miraculous and independent efficacy of the two sacraments —
the reverence due to the relics of martyrs — the benefit of pilgrim
ages to their tombs — the virtues of fasting — the patrocinism ofthe
saints in heaven, especially of the virgin — in a word, the religion
of Ambrose, Jerome, and Chrysostom : — let all this be granted ;
and moreover, to exclude all fair exceptions, let it be granted that
this nicene gospel involved certain awful truths which were to be
reserved for the ears of the privileged few. Yet, if language carry
any unquestionable meaning, this gospel, whatever it might intend,
or at least the vulgar elements of it, was without reserve and
without limit, to be proclaimed throughout the world, and testi
fied ' to every creature.' Whatever the consequence might be to
some who heard it, yet all were to hear what the Aposties were
comraanded to announce. — ^Whatever principle of reserve our
Lord might have adhered to before«he suffered, now that he was
ascending to glory, all men everywhere were to be invited to
repent and believe the Gospel. What can be clearer than this,
what more certain, what more soleranly imperative 1
But our modern high churchmen feel otherwise ; and their
feeling on this subject they have deliberately expressed, as well
incidentally in other places, as formally in the tract before us. —
By an indiscriminate zeal, say they, in spreading religious truth,
we may, while meaning well, be doing our fellow-men the
greatest injury. We should be fully assured in every case, of
the ' favourable dispositions ' of those into whose hands we put
a Bible. — We should be slow to 'bring churches near to every
man's house.' — When we build a church it should be a costly
one — ' a sacrifice offered^ to God, without any regard had to
the benefit of men.' — We ought not to think that money — ' mam
mon,' whether expended in missions, or in church building,
or in printing Bibles, or in founding schools, can ever promote
' God's glory :' least of all are we to think that any irregular
zeal in the promulgation of the Gospel can ultimately be

Christ's predictions and parables. 505
good.* — Now what has become of the conscience of a christian
man, if he hesitates to condemn all such doctrine as directly op
posed to our Lord's last command ? Let any one read the tract
now in question, and say whether it be not, from the first page to
the last, an awful contravention of the first law of the christian dis
pensation.^ — Perhaps the most flagrant instance which the Church
has ever seen, among religious men, of bold contempt flung upon
an explicit divine injunction. Our inference however is this —
If these writers have so been driven by the irresistible tendencies
of their system to contradict the plainest precept of the inspired
vxilume — to deny it, in its spirit and in its letter, we can feel no
difficulty when we find thera labouring also to put on one side
the first truth of the Gospel. It is no wonder that those who
would fain cloister Christianity, should seek to despoil it of its
glory- Our present purpose is not to refute the arguraent of these
writers, but merely to exhibit the fact, that the same men who
would prohibit all but those of their own church frora going forth
to preach the Gospel, and who frown upon even the raost cano
nical zeal in diffusing Christianity among the common people at
* The romanist, like an honest and consistent reasoner, on his own princi
ples, sweeps all protestants, and all protestant doings, at one stroke, into
Gehenna. — What less can he do ? ' There is no salvation out of the Church.'
But Oxford Tract writers are driven to hunt up nice circumlocutions which
shall save the ' no salvation' principle, without exposing themselves to the in
dignant contempt of mankind. I am no champion of this or that missionary
society ; but had rather that my pen should drop from a faithless hand, than
fail to assert the merit of any ol those institutions which God has blessed as
the means of evangelizing the heathen, and of rescuing the wretched. Good
tempered men of the world have far more heart than our church zealots, and
many such have frankly acknowledged the happy change which missionaries
have brought about, especially in the South Seas, and in South Africa. But
we are told that we ought to look very suspiciously upon all such unauthorized
proceedings of raen who have ' severed themselves from the Church,' and
belong to ' maimed communities of christians.' We may indeed rejoice that
even this dim light has ' for a time shone in a dark place ;'but then we should
hope that ' the day star ' might at length arise. And what is this ' day star '
which is to arise over Polynesian darkness and Hottentot schism ? What 1 —
The fripperies of superstition, and the hypocrisies of asceticism, and the
abominations of monkery ! See Dr. Pusey's Two Sermons — ' The Church
the Converter of the Heathen.' ' If the light that be in thee be darkness,
how great is thatdarkness !'

506 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
home, are of opinion that the doctrine of the atonement is one of
those ' sacred mysteries' to which the Rule of Reserve should be
applied; and that, in place of the * prevailing practice ' of inviting
the ungodly to look to this doctrine, it should be spoken of only
to the initiated, and even to them with caution !
The purport of the section now before us may be thus sum
marily, and I hope not unfairly, expressed. — ' The prevailing
notion of bringing forward the atonement explicitly and promi
nently on all occasions, is evidently quite opposed to what we
consider the teaching of Scripture ; nor do we find any sanction
for it in the Gospels. If the epistles of St. Paul appear to favour
it, it is only at first sight.' . . . . ' What St. Paul means when
speaking of himself as preaching Christ crucified, of being deter
mined to know nothing among those to whom he spoke but Chris'
crucified, and the like, although, of course, it implies the atone
ment, directly means something very different. In fact, the
opposite to the modern notion ; it is the necessity of our being
crucified to the world ; it is our humiliation together with him,
mortification of the fiesh, being made conformable to his suffer
ing and his death : — it is the doctrine that we cannot approach
God without a sacrifice— a sacrifice on the part of human nature,
in union with that of our Saviour. '_
Because our Lord, before his suffering (and for an obvious
reason) charged his disciples that they should tell no man con
cerning him — his divinity, and his propitiatory work, although
he spoke openly of his sufferings ; therefore, a like reserve is to
be adhered to by his ministers, in regard to these mysteries !
' This doctrine (of the atonement) so far from its being what is
supposed (by many) is, in fact, the very " secret of the Lord,"
which is not to be lightly spoken of by man ; but which "he wfll
show to them that fear him." '
Further; — the prevalence of this modern notion, concerning
the necessity of bringing forward the doctrine of the atonement,
is explained by referring it to a reaction of popular feefing.
' Since the great loss of christian principle which our church sus
tained at the TQbellion of 1688, when she threw, as it were, out of
her pale, the doctrine of Christ crucified (together with Ken and
Kettlewell) a low tone of morals has pervaded her teaching, and

Christ's predictions and parables. 507
not founded on the great christian principle ; and that baptism,
which implied it, has been much forgotten. The reaction which
usuaUy attends popular feeling has brought in the present opi
nions, which, as might be expected, has rather caught at the
shadow, than attained to the substance of that truth, which is as
much above our nature as heaven is above earth.'
The acceptableness of the modern style of preaching is, as the
writer affirms, a proof of its defectiveness ; for truth will never
be agreeable to the multitude. * And not only is the exclusive
and naked exposure of so very sacred a truth (the atonement)
unscriptural and dangerous, but, as Bishop Wilson says, the com
forts of religion ought to be applied with great caution.' ' All
these unhallowed approaches to our blessed Saviour which these
principles indicate, will, from what has been said, in some manner
lead to a disbelief in his divinity, the knowledge of which, it has
been observed, was that which he kept frora the unworthy ;' and
wifl also ' be seen in a disposition to deny his divine presence
and power in his sacraments — the regenerating grace of one, and
the Spiritual presence in the other.'
In a word, the preaching ' Christ crucified, is, the holding him
up as the great exemplar of mortification of the flesh. The ten
dency of human nature to excuse itself from the cross is shown
in the instance of the tendency to substitute the virgin (in the
romish church) as the object of religious worship, human depra
vity seeking for itself an opening under another shape, when
bound as it is in the romish church, to the great catholic doctrine
ofthe Trinity.'
The above cited passages, embody, I think, the purport of the
section referred to ; and, interpreting the writer's half developed
meaning by the general tenor of the published opinions of the
school, he means that, in place of the Gospel as proclaimed anew
by the reformers, and the text of which is — ' Behold the Lamb of
God that taketh away the sin of the world,' and in place of the
doctrine of justification by faith, we should return to what has
ever been the doctrine and practice of the romish, as it was of the
nicene church, namely, the preaching of that cooperative human
righteousness, of which asceticism is the main ingredient. The
doctrine of the atonement is ' a great truth,' no doubt, and

508 THE visible church — according to
' a great mystery,' but it is far too ' sacred a principle,' to be set
before the comraon people plainly and indiscriminately ; and it
ought, in regard to its high sacredness, to be hidden from all ex
cept the few who, by a course of mortifications (penances) have
made themselves worthy of so rare a discovery !
The writer of this tract finds 'no warrant' for the modern
notion about preaching the atonement, in the Gospels ; we are
compeUed therefore to conclude, that, when he reads John the
Baptist's — ' Behold the Lamb of God,' or Christ's reference to
himself as symbolized by ' the serpent lifted up in the wilderness,'
the doctrine indicated as the saving truth of the christian system
was — not the propitiatory efficacy of Christ's death, but the in
fluence of his example, in mortification of the body and in suffer
ing, as impelling his followers to be assiduous in the labours of
the ascetic life ! By the way, it ought to be noticed (so do ex
tremes raeet) that this is precisely the use ordinarily made of our
Lord's humiliation and sufferings, by socinian writers and
preachers. — ' Christ suffered for us — oh yes, as are example of
patience, fortitude, meekness ; and that he might animate his fol
lowers with a generous ambition to cultivate the stern, as well as
the mfld virtues.' — This is the gospel of socinianism : how rauch it
differs essentially from the gospel of Oxford Tract divines, let
impartial men determine. A neat expression of this sort of
gospel I have already cited from Lactantius, and it is really
curious to find that the language of this writer may, without any
violence, be rendered either into the custoraary style of socinian
teaching ; or, into that of Oxford Tract divinity. Let the reader
look to the passage subjoined.*
To refute, as a theologian, the doctrine of this tract, or to
expose what I must call its flimsy sophisms, is not the task I
' Deus  cum statuisset hominem liberare, magistrum virtutis legavit in
terram; qui et praeceptis salutaribus formaret homines ad innocentiam; et
operibus factisque praesentibus, justitiae viam panderet; qua gradiens homo, et
doctorem suum sequens, ad vitam aeternam pervenit. Is igitur cooperatus
est, et veste carnis indutus; ut homini, ad quem docendum venerat, virtutis
et exempla et incitamenta praeberet. Sed cum in omnibus vitae officiis,justi-
tiae specimen praebuisset, ut doloris quoque patientiam mortisque contemptum,
quibus perfecta et consummata sit virtus, traderet homini, venit in manus
&c. De Vera Sapientia, lib. iv. One might think this had been translated

Christ's predictio-ns and parables. 509
undertake. What I have to do is to remind the reader of the
simple historical fact, that this has always been the practice of
the romish church, as of the nicene divines. — Not to impugn the
doctrine of the propitiatory work of Christ, but to put in front
of it the ascetic phflosophy ; and to abstain from all free announce
ment of it to the people ; and to hold it forth in no other way
than under the mask of the ' unbloody sacrifice ' of the eucharistic
rite : this, we say, has ever been the style of the church of Rome,
as it had been of the nicene church. But now — and the his
toric fact is all I have to do with, the practice and doctrine of
the reformers — english, as well as swiss and german, was the
very opposite of this ; the reformation was, if we raust speak of
it in one word, a quarrel with the church of Rome on this specific
point, namely the unencurabered announcement ofthe atonement,
and the connected doctrine of justification by faith in Christ, as
• once offering himself a sacrifice to take away the sins of the
world.' The Oxford Tract writers have not hesitated to declare the ill
feeling they harbour towards the reformers (discreetly avowed in
relation, chiefly, to the continental reformers.) Now it might have
been supposed that this distaste had reference mainly to the too
great haste of those eminent men in removing what might have
been spared of the romish ceremonies. But it appears, in fact,
that, while, on this latter account, a deep grudge is enter
tained towards these half-puritans, the principal ground of quarrel
against them is the protestant doctrine — the foremost characteristic
of the reformation — the revived Gospel, so long buried beneath a
mass of idle superstitions, and ascetic practices.
' Go forth into all the world and preach the gospel to every
creature.' What then is this Gospel ? The nicene divines, the
church of Rome, and the Oxford Tract writers have given in their
answer, which answer, as given by the three, scarcely differs in
its phraseology, not at all in its substance. The reformers of the
from Belsham, Carpenter, or Channing ; and yet it fully expresses the Oxford
Tract writer's notion of the Gospel as fit to be exhibited to the mass of men.
It is only the initiated who should ever learn any thing more ; — and these
only so far as taught of God, irrespectively of human instruction. Nothing
better than ' the gospel according to Lactantius" is ever to be preached.

510 THE VISIBLE CHURCH  ACCORDING TO
sixteenth century, equally accordant among theraselves on this
point, have put forth another answer ; and the two, even if
one might, on paper, and by elaborate explanations, seera to
make them approximate a little, have ever been found in fact
to be utterly discordant. The two gospels generate different and
irreconcilable states of mind ; they produce contrasted effects
upon the moral condition of a people ; they lead to unlike reli
gious practices ; and they give rise to so thorough an alienation,
or breaking up of syrapathies, that it has, in no instance, been
found practicable to maintain christian intercourse between bodies,
or individuals, holding respectively the two doctrines. Roma
nists and protestants, if both in an equal degree worldly, may
indeed associate readfly enough ; and so, to a certain extent, raay
pious romanists and protestants, in those rare instances in which
individuals of the roraish comraunion have been protestants in
heart. But protestants, bound together by the sarae creeds,
yet differing in this article, feel that no ties, either of blood
or friendship, or ecclesiastical sympathy, are enough to over
come that veheraent antipathy of the spiritual instinct which keeps
asunder the gospel of asceticism and of sacraments, and the Gospel
of the propitiation, and of justification by faith.
A chasm, wide and bottomless, yawns between the domains of
the two doctrines — the two gospels ; and idle wfll be the labours
of any who may desire to bridge it over. Questions concerning
rites, or observances, or ecclesiastical constitutions, although
really connected with this great difference, and drawing their
reason from the governing principle on either side, yet are of
trivial import, as compared with the question — What is the
Gospel ? — what is that message which, as distinguished from
sacred mysteries fit only for the few, is, by our Lord's express
command, to be carried out into all the world, and loudly pro
claimed in the hearing of ' every creature ?'
Christendora, on all sides, is at this moraent, visibly drawing
on towards the verge of this chasm : and a peculiar intentness
attaches to the minds of all, increasing as they severaUy approach
the awful brink. A little whfle (even if the present controversy
should die away) a little while, and every man calling hiraself a
christian, will be compelled, and perhaps in a moment, to move

Christ's predictions and parables. 511
on to the one side or to the other; — and every church must do
so, as a body. The Oxford Tract movement may subside of
itself; or what is more probable, anomalous as it is within the
pale of protestantism, it may go over to its own place. But the
church of Rome is making a movement broader based, as well as
deeper ; and, encouraged by a course of events in England little
expected, it is also taking some useful lessons from protestant
zeal ; nor will it again rest until it has tried its whole strength in
the endeavour to reconquer England, Europe, and the world.
High enterprise ! and well omened too ! This new effort simul
taneously making at all points over the earth's surface, is also
heing made in all kinds ; that is to say, in the mode of political
machination, in that of ecclesiastical pretension, and extension, in
that of ritual display, or popular seduction, and, not least, in the
mode of a dogmatic reproduction of its first principles. In this
latter respect its labours (in England) have been anticipated by
the Oxford Tract divines, who have formaUy advanced, and have
ingeniously defended, the specific and characteristic roraish (and
nicene) gospel ; — at the sarae tirae going beyond their task, and
earning the honours of supererogatory zeal, in declaring that, even
this gospel, even their own church principle, should be hedged
around with ' Reserve,' and its sacred mysteries hidden from the
profane herd of mankind ! Such is the interpretation now put
upon the comraand to ' go forth and preach the Gospel to every
creature!'

512 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO

CHURCH PRINCIPLES— ACCORDING TO THE ACTS
OF THE APOSTLES.

A STRANGE conflict of incompatible feelings is occasioned when
some tranquil scene of rural amenity, some homely circle of vil
lage peace, coraes, in a day, by the chances of war to be enveloped
in the sraoke, and shaken by the thunders, and affrighted by the
terrible pomp of battle ; — when generals and princes, the high-born
masters of the great world, dispute at the peril of their lives, for
the possession of — an apple orchard, or a farm-house moat, or a
church-yard wall ! how are these simple folk, the rightful owners
of these obscure spots, astonished at the thought of the cruel im
mortality which has thus come to be forced upon their ignoble
homesteads ! — And so the guileless ' hundred and twenty,' who
assembled in ' an upper chamber,' how would they have been
amazed, could they have looked on, through the mists of ages,
into palace halls and college theatres, crowded with royal, ponti
fical, and academic pomp, and all gathering around the arena of a
wordy war, concerning — the simple, and, by themselves, unnoted
circumstances of their social economy and worship ! The revo
lutions of human affairs have exhibited few such oppositions of
things disproportionate, as that of the political and ecclesiastical
turmofl, the ' distress of nations,' the rancorous jealousies of
communities — men's hearts failing them in fear and doubt con
cerning what ? modes of acting as casual, and intrinsically as
unimportant as any that have ever chequered huraan life in its
obscurest retreats ! It is a great and fatal error to say, as is so

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 513
often said, that religion confers importance upon things intrinsically
unimportant. The office of religion is, or it should be, to strip
things unimportant of their factitious consequence ; and to fill the
minds of men with objects substantially and infinitely momentous.
The time must come — though such a millennium of reason must
not perhaps be hoped for in our own days, when the real ecclesias
tical iraport of the inartificial narrative contained in the Acts of
the Apostles will come to be dispassionately submitted to learned
analysis, and when so much as is found to be clear and indubita
ble, wfll he set forth, and made available for any purposes of
instruction to which it may be applicable ; while (which is even a
more desirable operation) what is not clear, and can never be
made so, nor placed beyond doubt, shall be set off, as a very
unfit text of strife among christian brethren. Happy consumma
tion ! most devoutly to be wished for ! after which the disciples
of Christ shall no more hate each other, or kingdoms wage war,
on the ground of questions equally indeterminate, and unimportant !
The rudiments, or at least the few governing principles of an
ecclesiastical constitution might, no doubt, be gathered from those
incidental aUusions that are scattered over the Acts of the Apostles,
and the canonical epistles ; and even now, while controversy is
running high abroad, those whose researches are carried on amid
green fields, and who read the sacred history as placidly as they
read profane history, may think such principles to be not of very
difficult attainment. There may however be good reasons for
not moving at this time, anew, any such general inquiries ; yet
there has arisen a necessity for pursuing particular inquiries,
just so far as they may touch the questions that are at issue
within the episcopal church. This then is our present limit.
That which bears upon controversies, now or heretofore carried
on between the episcopal church, and its opponents, or between
some one body of these opponents and some other, we have
nothing to do with. We look exclusively to that which seems
more or less conclusive in relation to high church principles.
The dedicatory exordium of the Acts of the Apostles, in the
style, as it is, of an ordinary historic narrative, seems to permit,
and even to invite a perusal of the book just as we should read
.any other document of antiquity. This book is the first in the
M M

514 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCOllDING TO
long series of the original materials of church history. The
sacred character it bears, as a portion of the canon of Scripture,
important as it is when doctrines are to be proved, and duties
to be enforced, has nothing to do with our examination of it
simply as an authentic narrative of events connected with the
early promulgation of the christian faith. We do not desecrate
the book, but do it honour, when we throw ourselves confidently
upon the writer's veracity, intelligence, aud simplicity of purpose,
irrespectively of the extraordinary guidance under which he
wrote. Read then the narrative of Luke, as the first chapter of
church history. Undoubtedly authentic and exact, so far as it
goes, but neither philosophic in its strain, nor artificial in its
structure, and therefore, neither presenting general views of the
state of things around, nor in itself comprehensive, nor regularly
digested, as a summary of events connected with the first plant
ing of the Gospel : — it is a sample only of those events ; and
instead of its anticipating, and providing for the anxious curi
osity of distant ages regarding a thousand circumstances to which
importance has come to be attached, the writer fills his narrow
space with what the historical inquirer could forego, and glides
silently over what he intently desires to be informed of.
Whoever gave the book the title it usually carries, did it a
disservice : it is the acts of Apostles ; but not the acts of the
Apostles. Whfle therefore it must be absurd to look into it for
what none but artificial and logically digested histories contain,
its very character, as inartificial, and unteohnical, greatly enhances
the confidence with which we commence our search for undesigned
exhibitions of the spirit, temper, behaviour, of the persons whose
conduct it relates. We may fafl to find, in such a narrative, a
raultitude of things which we should gladly have been informed
of; but unquestionably we shall learn thence what it is of the
first importance for us to know, namely — The moral and religious
quality of the new religion, and what was its main purport. An
artificial writer might, while giving us the order of events with
unexceptionable accuracy and luminous precision, have contrived
to conceal, or to misrepresent, the character of the doctrine and
institute ; but from a narrator such as Luke, we shall gather this,
whatever else we do not learn.

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 515
A technical historian of the rise of a new order of things takes
care, on the threshold, to exhibit his own mastery of his subject
by setting forth, in an orderly manner, the then existing condition
of the community from the bosom of which this new order sprung
up. The writer of the Acts of the Apostles does no such thing —
he tells us nothing of the state of the pagan world, nothing of the
Jewish sects, nothing of the condition of the roman world ; he
makes no endeavour to transport his readers either to the sumrait
of Nebo, or to a pinnacle of the temple, or to the height of the
athenian acropolis, or to the roof of the roman capitol. Luke
holds to the simplest of purposes, and in the simplest mood.
We moderns, however, cannot but read this book (elucidated
by the accompanying epistles) with an eye to the various objects
from out of the midst of which it stands forth, unique — all of a
piece with the nationality and era, so far as concerns dialect,
modes of thinking, costumes, historical aUusions, but utterly
unlike in spirit, and in moral purport, to any thing with which it
might be compared ; and yet this exordium of christian history,
new as it is in the sense of the term fresh, is not new as a novelty.
There is in it the working of a young energy upon old materials;
an existing religious and moral economy is taken up, as a rudi
ment, and is re-born, dropping adjuncts, and retaining the
substance ; and yet, in dropping the adjuncts, not spurning thera,
but leaving them, and in retaining the substance, assuming, rather
than obtruding it.
Thus it is that the Acts of the Apostles tacitly reveals the pre
sence of a wisdom more than human. A transition is making
frora Moses to Christ, gradual on both hands ; that is to say,
gradual in getting free from the exuvice of a superannuated
economy, and gradual in expressing what, in that economy, was
perpetual. These two kinds of continuity therefore would dis
courage the attempt to place Christianity and mosaic Judaism in
contrast ; but Christianity, as exhibited in the Acts of the
Apostles, and the Epistles, displays the most violent contrast
when placed by the side of the Judaism of the age.
Gathering our notions of this Judaism from the incidental
allusions of the Evangelists, frora the extant rabbinical litera
ture, from the writings of Josephus, or of Philo, or from the few
M M 2

516 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
contemptuous phrases of the greek and roman writers, its features
present a harmony which assures us of the truth of the repre
sentation. The heaven-sent promulgators of Christianity, how unlike were
they to the fair-spoken, cold-hearted, liberal, politic, lax, and
affectedly phflosophic sadducees ! They were men of belief, men
of a single purpose, men thinking it wise to obey God rather than
man, come what might ; men whose prudence included a great,
not a small cycle of things, and whose course of conduct was
such as must seem folly while the veil is down, and be confessed
to be wisdom, when the veil is lifted. All this is too obvious
to need a reference to proofs ; and the contrast, clear as it is,
makes it absolutely certain that apostolic Christianity was no
such system as it has been presumed to be by the modern
descendants of the sadducees : that is to say, by men whose faith
is unbelief, whose wisdom is that of philosophy, and whose prin
ciples of action are sure to be understood and approved of by
the world.
' I am a Pharisee,' exclaimed Paul, in a tumultuous assembly :
— but how unlike a pharisee — how unlike Saul, was Paul!
The Apostles and first christians did indeed so far agree with the
pharisees, as that they were men of fervid religious convictions,
and held no opinions tending to loosen their reverence toward
Moses and the Prophets. With the one set of men, as well as the
other, religious considerations were uppermost. The two bodies
were even allied by their prejudices ; for it was not early that
even the leaders of the Church learned to lay aside, and many
never laid aside, the sectarian habits of thinking and feeling which
were their characteristics as Jews. Fifteen years after the notable
Pentecostal day, even the chief of the Apostles gave an iUustration
of the truth, that a man may undergo any sort of moral revolution
sooner than relinquish the prejudices of his education.
But the piety of the men who speak and act in Luke's nar
rative, if compared with the pietism of the pharisees, was warm
hearted, instead of fierce ; vigorous, instead of violent ; con
scientious, instead of scrupulous ; sincere, instead of ostentatious;
courageous, instead of insolent ; firm, instead of rigid ; reason
able, instead of sophistical ; pure, instead of austere ; devout.

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 517
not superstitious ; peaceable, not factious ; spiritual, not political.
This christian piety, as distinguished from the religionism of the
pharisees, was founded, without any intervening stratum of
human authority, upon the divine will, as defined in Scripture ;
and thus firmly built on the rock, it stood exempt from the oscil
lations ever belonging to a system of comraents, ambiguous
decisions, and obscure evanescent traditions. In this instance, if
there were no other discrirainating mark, we have a broad distinc
tion, making itself apparent in the tempers of the two classes of
men, in their public conduct, in their style of speaking, in their
methods of reasoning. Never need we mistake in distinguishing
the man of exposition and tradition, from him whose faith and
hope grasp the word of God, by an immediate hold of the reason
and of the affections.
The pharisee, or the creature of the Targura (the paraphrase)
and the slave of the Mishna (the tradition) find hira where we
may, at Jerusalem, Constantinople, Rome, or where else he may
reappear in a late age, exhibits, as compared with one who says
' Thy word was found of me, and I did eat it,' the emaciation
of a soul feeding upon chaff. With such a one, the means
are always more regarded than the end, the exceptions more
than the rule ; and the husk is more precious than the kernel.
Such a one, though he be never the sceptic, is always the caviller,
and is infested with the peculiar faults at once of credulity, and
suspicion ; and while he foregoes the satisfaction of fearless rea
son, is destitute ofthe warm comforts of genuine faith ; he totters
and stumbles when he walks on earth ; and if he would soar to
heaven, he does but flutter a moment in the sky, and fall. To
ward God he is audacious in defying and setting at nought the
plainly expressed will of the only lawgiver ; while timid and
servile in yielding to religious injunctions coming round to him
through a circuit of intermediate authorities. Toward his fellow
men, his rule of love and hatred is, that the former should be
perpetually sounding a retreat from some wider, to some narrower
ground; while the latter is always directly as the approximation
of creeds.
The pharisee, whether ancient or modern — the man of the
targum, and the man of the mishna, drives men into schism.

518 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
and then curses them on account of it. — In the church,
while he busies himself in painting the windows, and iil gflding
the carvings, he so excludes all circulation of wholesome air as to
send rottenness into the timbers ; and from the general course of
his conduct one must conclude, that he would rather see the roof
come down at a crash, than admit a timely ventilation. In the
state, the pharisee, while swelling with the arrogance of the oli
garch, is scarcely less factious or turbulent than the demagogue :
and while preaching passive obedience to others, himself beards
authority, and employs his influence over the common people,
to thwart law and justice.
Not such were the men who come before us in the narrative of
Luke. Such they were not, inasmuch as they acted at the im
pulse, not merely ol powerful, but ol simple motives, and because
their minds were in immediate dependence upon the supreme
authority. They were men governed by an unsophisticated
wisdom, warmed by a hope-inspiring piety, and emboldened
to speak and suffer by an unaffected good will to all. These
moral characteristics are too strongly expressed in this narrative
to be mistaken. God's own mark is on the foreheads of these his
servants : and so, moreover, is God's mark on the foreheads of
their opponents and persecutors : these, the slaves of a secondary
AUTHORITY in refigiou, indicated the evfl influence of their condi
tion of bondage, by their crooked reasonings, their perverse pre
ferences, their comfortless scrupulosities, by the virulence of their
tempers, their vainglorious hypocrisy, and the grovelling notions
they entertained of the divine character and government.
There was however, in the apostolic age, another, though a
much less obtrusive religious class — they should not be called
a party, in the Jewish community, and with which, notwithstand
ing the silence of the evangelists concerning them, it is proper
that we should compare the personages of the canonical history.
The omission, by our Saviour and the Apostles, of any reference
to the then existing, and not unnoted sect of contemplative and
ascetic religionists, called Essenes, has been attempted to be ex
plained in various ways, with which however we are not now
concerned. The facts, gathered from independent and authentic
sources, are to this effect — that, at the time of our Lord's ministry.

the acts of THE APOSTLES. 519
and afterwards, there were, in and about Judea, several soda
lities of devout and abstracted persons, whose temper and course
of fife, there is reason to think, were decidedly of a higher moral
tone than that of the mass of their countrymen, such as that, if
they did not provoke rebuke from the Teacher of truth, they
seemed almost to be entitled to the implicit comraendation of
some neutral reference, or at least the bare insertion of their narae
in the evangelic record.
But the Essenes are neither blamed, nor are they commended ;
— they are not so much as named by the Evangelists, or by the
Apostles! They are not blamed; — and therefore we may, with
some confidence, infer that their errors, of whatever sort they
might be, did not, as related to the light then enjoyed by the Jewish
people, imply, like those of the sadducees, impiety and contempt
of sacred things ; or like those of the pharisees, hypocrisy, spiri
tual debauchery, and an open contempt of the divine authority. —
They are not commended ; therefore, with the same certainty
we may assume, that the principles of the sect were altogether
foreign to those of the christian dispensation ; and that there was
no such accordance between the two systems as that the Insfi-
tutor of the new was bound, in mere candour, to recognise this
existing scherae of a religious life. Christianity was another doc
trine, resting on other motives, tending to another end, and reach
ing its end by other means. Our Lord recognises Moses and the
Prophets, whose words he came not to abrogate, but to confirm
— he names and refutes the sadducee, who ' greatly erred ; ' and
he names and sternly condemns the pharisee, who corrupts, while
professing to honour religion ; but he makes not even a passing
allusion to the Essene, whom, so often, ' in the wilderness of
Judea,' he must have personally encountered : — no, for if there
was no violent contrariety between his code of piety and theirs,
there was no affinity. Christianity was not to be a refreshed and
reanimated essenism. Christianity, impelled by the hand of heaven,
took its bold course right through the midst of the Jewish sects :
— one it repelled, one it overthrew ; but the essenic it cleared
without either collision or attraction ! so does a massy planet
with its satellites, whfle it holds to its own orbit, yet confess the
disturbing force of neighbouring solid masses ; but as to the pallid

520

CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO

comet — congeries of mists, feeble phosphorescence as it is — it
may come and go, and sweep its attenuated glimmer through the
very field of that orbit, without effecting the slightest perturba
tion which the nicest instrument can detect ; — without winning
to itself the honour of having caused, among those orbs, even so
much as a momentary tremor ! This instructive negative fact
claims the consideration of those ingenuous and calra-minded
persons who are now clinging to the belief — a belief they cannot
relinquish while they continue to bend to antiquity, that Christi
anity favours, and that it wfll, where allowed to do so, expand
itself into some form of asceticism. The milder aspect of the
ascetic life, whether eremitic or conventual — solitary or social,
such as it might have been found in some few favoured spots at
the close of the third century, wars, in substance and in spirit,
the very sarae thing as is described by Philo,* Josephus, and
others, as extant in the apostolic age. But now the nicene
church, in the most confident terms, declares this asceticism, in
both kinds, to be — Christianity perfectly embodied ! and yet this
very scheme of life, coming under our Lord's constant observation
as it did, never once attracts his ey e^ — he never once pointed to it as
a shadow, at least, of that bright reality which his church should,
ere long, exhibit to the world! Only let us lead Basfl, Ephrem,
Palladius, Athanasius, among the ancient Essenes, and they could
not but confess themselves to be at home : and yet Christ and
the Apostles lived in the neighbourhood of these religionists, with
out seeming so much as to know that men of piety were about
them, and without, in any instance, acknowledging a spiritual
consanguinity ! We may thence safely infer that Christ's religion
has no affinity with the meagre, melancholy, purblind, ascetic
philosophy, which was to be the glory, the boast, the idol, and
the ruin of the nicene church.
In the narrative of the Acts of the Apostles, if we discern some
faint traces of pharisaic rigidity, we discover not one trace of
* Philo, ' Quod omnis Probus Liber.' This writer's commendatory de
scription of the Essenes of his time, too long to cite, and which hardly bears
retrenchment, offers a convincing instance of the substantial identity of the
several forms of the ascetic institute. If Philo is to be relied upon, these
Jewish ascetics were in a much higher moral condition than the christian
monks ofthe fourth century.

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 521
essenic abstractedness : on this scene all is life, vigour, move
ment, force ; and one may as easily imagine Peter, James,
John, Paul, to have prayed to the saints (as the nicene doctors
did) as to have built themselves into crannies of the rocks,
like the nicene hermits. But it will be well to adduce an
instance ; and one in point meets us so early as the end of the
second chapter.
' And aU that believed were together, and had all things com
mon, and sold their possessions and goods,' &c.* An essenic
practice ! the gregarious, or conventual life, and the coraraunity
of goods ! what more then do we want as our warrant for setting
on foot the monastic life ! It is not so, if we think a moment.
The Jewish seclusionists, as well as the monks afterwards, well
understood — how could they fail to understand so simple a prin
ciple of economics ? — that a community of goods, as a permanent
ordinance, is totally impracticable, except on one condition,
naraely — the abrogation of marriage, in one of the two modes in
which it may be abrogated ; that is to say, either by admitting a
community of wives, or by the renunciation, altogether, of the
sexual relationship. The Essenes adopted the latter plan, and
rigidly excluded women from those of their establishments in
which the community of goods was actually carried into effect.
It cannot be necessary to prove that the family economy — the
sacredness of the matrimonial connexion, and the consequent
dependence of children upon their parents, must very speedily
break up any scheme intended to perpetuate the non-property
principle. Therefore, we infer, without a doubt, that, in a society
recognising marriage, and giving its highest sanction to the
domestic relationships, a community of goods could never have
been more than a momentary exuberance of that same feeling,
which, in its steady and ordinary condition, should make chris
tians forward to ' give to every one that needeth.' That Christianity
was not intended to break up the doraestic economy is manifest,
inasmuch as the peculiar duties of this economy are solemnly
enforced by the Apostles ; nor, in fact, do we find any traces of
this momentary zeal, after the first few weeks or months of its
appearance. The very precept — ' charge the rich that they be
*¦ Acts ii. 44, and iv. 32.

522 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
ready to comraunicate, wflling to distribute,' is proof that a com
munity of goods was not to be the law of the christian institute.
Had it been so, the distinction hetween rich and poor could have
had no more place. The apostle James consoles the poor of the
church, and checks the pride of the rich ; — implying that there
were — rich and poor ; but he says nothing tending to restore, as
if it had culpably fallen into disuse, the early practice of a com
munity of goods.
Here then is an instance in which the Church touched upon the
borders of the essenic and monastic institute — touched, for a
mere moment, and then bore away, holding its after-course sur
rounded by the undamaged elements of the social system. Had
any such enormity and folly as that of essenism, or monkery,
been intended to constitute a part of Christianity, this was the
occasion for taking it up, and for founding, upon the community
of goods, the monastic institute. But, instead of it — woman's
honour was respected, a free, and really virtuous association of
the sexes, such as is always practicable where marriage has not
been discountenanced, became the characteristic of the first chris
tians ; and therefore, although christians continued to exercise a
noble liberality toward each other, the community of goods, like
a wave only in the spring-tide of love, was seen no more after its
first swell had subsided.
It has been the characteristic of fanaticism, in all ages, to
snatch at things the most casual, and to hoist thera into the
place of rules and principles. Every unimportant circumstance
of the canonical history has thus, in its turn, been perverted,
as if it should be the germ of a perraanent practice. To idolize
whatever is trivial, and to forget whatever is momentous — to pay
more regard to the exception than to the rule, is the temper
of superstition ! Gathering the drift of the New Testament
morality, it is perfectly certain that it was not the intention
of our Lord to break up the social system ; any instances there
fore of an opposite aspect, such as a momentary permission, or
commendation, of the community of goods, or of celibacy, are
exceptions clearly, not rules ; and to take an exception for a rule,
is to throw contempt upon law.
' - . . . And breaking bread from house to housej did eat their

THE ACTS OF TIIE APOSTLES. 523
meat with gladness and singleness of heart.'* The first chris
tians, therefore, were neither Essenes, nor ascetics, after the
fashion of St. Antony, St. Pachomius, or La Trappe. At the
very moraent while the former, seated in austere sflence around
their common table, were taking their morsel of bread, with salt
and hyssop, the first christian society — the Apostles presiding,
were gladdening their social repast with the free interchange of
joyous sentiments. Essenism and asceticism stand on one side
of a broad contrast ; Christianity on the other. But the nicene
monkery was, in all points of discipline, an exaggerated copy
of the earlier form of the austere philosophy ; and therefore
it stood just so much the further removed from the spirit and
practice, of apostolic Christianity. This sort of comparison must,
with reasonable men, be conclusive against the ascetic doctrine.
' For it seemed good to the Holy Ghost, and to us, to lay
upon you no greater burden than these necessary things,' &c.-j-
Now it is curious, and more than curious — it is highly instructive
to take in hand the ponderous collections that have been made of
the acts and canons of all the councils and synods of many cen
turies ; — vast commentary upon the siraple apostolic text I Yet
the first of these councils, the council of Jerusalem, is surely not
to be regarded as the least authentic, or the lowest in authority
of the series ! But how remarkable is the fact which forces itself
upon our notice, in comparing this, the first of the series, with all
that follow ! nowhere else, within the compass of history, sacred
or profane, can we find so violent a contradiction among things
allied by a bond of artificial combination. On nearly fourteen
hundred recorded occasions, in the lapse of about the sarae
number of years, has the Church, universal or provincial, met in
council, for the settlement of doctrine and discipline. But, in
examining the acts of the most noted of these legislative con
ventions, whfle it is quite true that, in particular instances, a
remission of grievances, or a lightening of intolerable burdens has
been the object of their decisions, yet, looking to the general
complexion, or ordinary tendency of them, or taking the upshot,
in a course of years (any one century that may be selected) the
effect of these decisions has been to impose burdens, either upon
• Acts ii. 46. t Aots XV. 28.

524 church principles— according to
the consciences, or the opinions, or the ecclesiastical practices and
duties of men. In Ausustine's time the accumulated mass of
burdens thus imposed had become so enormous that he acknow
ledges the condition of christian people to be far less tolerable
than that of the Jews, under the weight of the mosaic, and
talmudic, and mishnic observances. In the multiplication of
superstitious rites, in the terrible severity of the penitential code —
that law to the demands of which all christian people were liable,
in the almost incredible austerity of the ascetic life, as affecting
those who addicted themselves to its rules, and in the imposition
of clerical celibacy, the christian institute altogether had been
rendered so savagely stern in its aspect, as at once to vilify the
human mind, where its despotism took hold, and to drive men
into the extreme of licentiousness, where it did not.
Such, notoriously, was the state of things at an early tirae in
the Church, and such was the aggregate result (canons of miti
gation allowed for) of the synodical proceedings of the Church
during its earliest period. — Let us then turn the ear to catch the
mild tones of that assembly which included the very men whora
the Lord had invested with authority both to promulgate his doc
trine, and to rule his church. And are we to attribute apostolic
authority to this, to that, and to the other convention of bishops,
and not to the convention of the Apostles themselves ? but what
then is the tenor of this first council, speaking as it did, and right
fully speaking, in the name of the Holy Ghost ? — 'It seemed
good to the Holy Ghost, and to us, to lay upon you no other
burden than these necessary things.' Such is the text of ecclesi
astical legislation ! But the terms and conditions of this decree
are remarkable. Nothing more than was clearly necessary was
to be imposed as an ecclesiastical ordinance, and not one of the
things, so imposed, could in fact be considered as a burden ;
each having a reasonable motive, drawn from the difficult
position of the gentile converts, surrounded as they were by
idolatrous practices. The single injunction which stands araong
these inhibitions, having apparently a moral import, is probably
to be interpreted as meaning — abstain from idolatrous compli
ances, or any practice likely to be misunderstood by polytheists ;
for, in fact, fornication, along with all other 'works ofthe flesh,'

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 525
Stood condemned already, in the christian code, without the
decree of a council.
But this apostolic convention, opposing itself, at once, to
ascetic superstitions, and to despotic impositions, prohibited — not
animal food, but only ' meats offered to idols,' and ' blood,' and
'things strangled;' not flesh, or fish, or fowl; no limitation of
diet belonged to apostolic Christianity. The limitation of diet,
and especiaUy the prohibition of animal food, is nothing but
brahrainisra ; and the (so called) church which signalized itself
in prohibiting, or in discouraging the use of animal food, thereby,
and so far, declared its affinity with oriental errors. ' And forni
cation ' — not matrimony, which is neither prohibited nor discoun
tenanced. And at this point, the apostolic assembly subjoined
its valediction. ' If ye keep yourselves from these things, ye
shall do well.' But why did not the first of the councils open the
way, by a word at least, for the ten thousand prohibitory canons
which were to overlay the Church during the coming centuries ?
Why ? because the council of Jerusalem was indeed guided by
the Holy Ghost — the Spirit of truth, love, liberty ; whereas the
men who ruled the councils that followed, had surrendered them
selves to — what spirit may we say ?
The Oxford Tract writers demand that, as a proof of religious
docility, we should be ready, always, to yield our faith and
practice to much less than demonstrative evidence ; and that we
should thankfully accept as ' sufficient proof,' what men of the
world would reject as slender and inconclusive. Be it so ; but
now I would ask — whether, when the spirit and purport of the
decree of the council of Jerusalem is considered, in its relation,
first, to the two then existing forms of austere pietism, the
pharisaic and the essenic, and then in relation to the general
character of the canons of later councils, it be not evident in a
sufficient degree lor the guidance of docile and religious men, that
the Apostles would have declared themselves decisively against
the asceticism, the superstitious observances, and the despotic
restraints, which the nicene church gave itself up to, and which
these writers are favouring and seeking to restore ? *
The contrariety, in spirit and in letter, between the decision of the first
council, and those that followed, even in a very early age, is often ofthe mo.5t

526 CHURCH PRINCIPLES — ACCORDING TO
If, in any single instance, the manifest and, I believe, admitted
discrepancy between church principles and the tone and style
of the inspired writers, can be so brought out as to surpass all
powersof accommodation, such an instance would afford ground
enough, in the view of reasonable men, for involving the entire
scheme in the heaviest suspicion, to say no more. We might
then fairly bring the general scherae of notions and practices
so denominated to the test, in reference to what must be con
sidered as its most solemn article, namely — the doctrine of the
eucharist. For the purpose of applying this method of argument with all
due caution, let us first take the extreme instance of the romish
eucharistic belief and practice. Now we are not about to disprove
transubstantiation ; but merely to propound a question which
seems to fall within the cognizance of all minds, and it is this,
namely, whether any reader, learned or unlearned, of the Acts of
the Apostles, would ever gather either from the explicit assertions,
or the allusive phrases of the writer, any such doctrine as that
pointed kind. Some such occur in the canons of the Council of Ancyra
(earlier than the nicene) and to these I have already referred. The first
forbade fornication (if we are to take the term in its literal sense) ; the latter
defined the very narrow limits within which marriage might be allowed to the
clergy ; and it put the violation of the profession of virginity on a level with
the opprobrium of a second marriage ! The canons of the Synod of Neocae-
sarea I have also cited, as boldly contradicting apostolic authority. ' We
would lay no other burden upon you than these ' . — say the Apostles :
TTpei7$iTfpos fdv yrit^V' ^^X '¦^^ ' ''"'j' fathers,' assembled at Neocaesarea, let
him be deposed. Is this a oneness of spirit, flowing on from the earlier to
the later time ; or is it a bold contravention of the divine authority 1 There
are indeed frequent instances in which the intention of canons was to relax
the severity of usages-that had insensibly grown upon the Church: in such
cases, while we give the synod or council the credit due to it, on the score of
its mildness and wisdom, this very interposition of authority is a proof of that
general tendency of the Church toward superstition and austerity, which
marked its departure from the way of peace and truth. Instances of both
kinds occur in the spurious collection (no doubt of an early date) entitled the
'Apostolic Canons.' Thus, the putting away a wife on pretext of piety, by
a presbyter, is severely reprobated. (Canon 3.) Proof then o( the practice ;
as well aa of the good sense of whoever was the author of the canon. A curious
example of the opposite kind is the decision that a bishop, or presbyter,
administering baptism by one immersion only, instead of three, should be
deposed! (Canon 42.) and the wording of our Lord's commission to baptize
all nations is cited as the warrant for this practice !

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 527
embodied in the romish eucharistic service — the ceremony of the
mass ? Let it be assumed that, when the first christians, with
the Apostles presiding, ' broke bread,' they believed themselves
to be immolating anew the Son of God, and that the bread and
wine, by the act of consecration, had undergone a miraculous
transmutation ; — let it he so ; but we must think it on the ground
of some other evidence than that which Luke's narrative furnishes.
There is no hydraulic pressure that will ever avail to bring out of
the mere phrase ' breaking bread,' the tremendous mystery of the
mass. True or not ; it is not in the Acts. As well affirm that
the Apostles held and taught the Newtonian astronomy, as
affirm, with this narrative before us, that they held the doctrine of
the roraish church, and ' said mass,' in any manner analogous to
the romish eucharistic rite.
There is no room for reasoning in this instance. If any affirm
transubstantiation to be taught or implied in the Acts of the
Apostles, let them show us the place. But now we may consent
to bow to nicene church principles if it can be shown that the
nicene eucharistic doctrine and ritual is any more indicated in
Luke's narrative, than is the romish.
We assume that the evangelist, by the phrase ' breaking of
bread,' intends the celebration of the Lord's supper. Such then
is the phrase which satisfies the whole of his feeling in regard to
the rite ; and nothing more does he offer us, whatever more
raight be concealed beneath so brief and simple a term. Not so
Chrysostom ; whose ordinary designation of the same rite is —
the ' horrific mystery ' or the ' treraendous sacrifice."* Now if
nothing beyond an unimportant question of history were in
view, so marked a dissimilarity of phraseology would, without a
doubt, be held to indicate the substitution of one belief for
another, in regard to the same subject. I have already cited -|-
this father's opinion of the peculiar properties of the eucharistic
elements, and his description of the awful solemnity of the conse-
* As where the practice of praying for the dead is justified, tom. xi. p. 251.
The eucharist is called 17 (jipiKTri Bva-ia. The altar is called the horrific table :
tom. ii. p. 453, and the ' cup of blessing ' (j,oPep6v /tal (ppiKwSecrTaTov, tom. x.
p. 248.
t No. 2, p. 261, 2(i2.

528 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
oration, when angels aud archangels float trembling and amazed
around the altar; and in the same strain speak his iUustrious
contemporaries of the east and the west, who, whether justifiable
or not, in thus going beyond the modesty of the inspired writings,
employ language that conveys notions nowhere suggested in the
evangelic records — that this 'breaking of bread' was a real
sacrifice, during the perforraance uf which the angels looked on.
in amazement, as they did when Christ hung on the tree ; — that
by the words of consecration, what before, was bread and wine,
had become truly Christ's body ; and that the priest, to whom
such a function is assigned, exerts a power to which nothing else
either on earth or in heaven can be likened : — such notions, let
them be true ; but assuredly they must draw their warrant from
some other source than the first and authentic document of
church history. Luke, and the christians of whom he speaks,
may have held this belief; but he affords us not even the slen
derest indication of their having done so. This is what we have
now to do with.
By whatever logical refinements the romish dogma of transub
stantiation may be distinguished from the opinion, so boldly and
repeatedly expressed by Ambrose, Augustine, and Chrysostom,
the dogma and the opinion, (if indeed they be two) stand at an
equal distance from that notion of the eucharist which offers itself
to the uninitiated reader of the canonical history. ' Breaking of
bread ' is all that we hear of in the Acts of the Apostles : — an im
molation,* a terrible mystery, a sacrifice, a breaking, rending, and
mastication, not of bread, but of the body of Christ, which has
come into its place : these are the things we hear of from the
nicene writers.
The Liturgy ordinarily called Chrysostom's, although not attri
butable to him in its present state, is undoubtedly, in its principal
elements, the same as that in which he had been used to take a
part ; and whatever it contains which most nearly resembles the
romish mass, receives a warrant frora expressions occurring in his
unquestioned writings. No spectator of the two modes of cele-
* The priest, touching the right side of the consecrated bread with the holy
spear, the attendant deacon says— ' Slay, sir,' Bva'ov, Se'oTroTo. Chrysostom's
Liturgy.

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 529
brating the eucharistic rite, in the greek, and the romish church,
would think that the variations, whatever they may be, are
worthy of being taken any account of, as furnishing a ground of
preference, in a religious sense. Every thing which splendour in
the material, and which superstition in the ceremonial of the ser
vice could bring together, is accumulated in both ; and the two
are in an equal degree theatrical, and equally remote from the
modesty of the apostolic usages. And both services, alike, are
adapted to the purpose of conveying to the mind of the vulgar a
belief of which not the faintest trace appears in the Acts of the
Apostles. Here then we stop. — Let transubstantiation, or what
ever notion Chrysostom and his conteraporaries intended the peo
ple to receive, be true ; yet certain it is, either that this truth had
not been revealed to the Apostles ; or, that, if revealed, it was not
promulgated among the first converts. If Luke had been accus
tomed to witness any such horrific ceremony as the sacrifice of the
mass, or had heard the Lord's supper spoken of in terras such as
those employed by the nicene preachers, the language he actually
uses must in that age have appeared, either to derogate immensely
from the solemnity and real importance of the ceremony, or as
uselessly intended to conceal what must have been known to all
members of the Church — that is, to thousands of persons, in
Judea, Asia Minor, Egypt, Africa, and Italy.
We might go over the same ground of irresistible inference in
regard to the baptismal rite. But this can hardly be necessary.
Allow nicene doctrine to he true, in this instance also ; but it
does not present itself on the face of this early document of our
religion ; nor would any reader surmise that it might be imbedded
beneath forms of language so inartificial. The rabbis assure us
that the profoundest mysteries of theology are couched in the
forms of the letters which make up the divine name. It may be
so; but who that had not been informed, authoritatively, of the
wonderful fact, would ever have divined it, even if he had conti
nued gazing upon the hebrew alphabet for a century ! This cir
cumstance only we may note, that, while the narrative of Luke
puts it beyond question that the rite of baptism was invariably, and
according to our Lord's injunction, administered to all persons
acknowled^ging him as the Christ of God, and administered
N N

?30 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
immediately on this profession, yet, that the spiritual grace signi
fied thereby, or the renovation of the raoral nature, in some cases
preceded the rite, in some followed it after an interval, and in others
did not attend it at all.* But there is no point of theology on which
the nicene divines are better agreed, or more positive and clear in
their affirmations, than this, that the regenerative rite, duly per
formed, is the immediate instrument for effecting a moral and spiri
tual renovation. There was no spiritual life the instant preced
ing baptism ; the moment following found the recipient pardoned,
justified, sanctified, and fit for heaven. Compare Luke's brief
references to the baptismal rite, as performed by the Apostles,
with Chrysostom's address to the catechumens, previous to their
'illumination;' or with Ambrose on parallel occasions; or with
the office of baptism as found in the works of pope Gregory I.
and the preparatory cereraony of blessing the bapiisraal water ;
and then ask — not whether what was at first simple in the per
forraance, had gradually come to be too much charged with forms,
for this we might perhaps admit ; but whether other notions —
notions which had never entered the minds of the Apostles, had
not come in to render the rite altogether another rite — so that the
mere name, and the mere use of water, are the only points of
agreeraent between the two ordinances.

Let the reader a little longer do himself the justice to retain
that cool temper of historical inquiry, and indifference to conse
quences, which are proper to a simply historical argument. Now,
in looking up and down through the Acts of the Apostles, and in
following in idea these first, and (as protestants are used to
think) these ' fully instructed ' ministers of Christ, one cannot but
feel that apostolic Christianity was less a religion of liturgical
» Cornelius, Acts x. 44, 48, had received not only the grace which made
him a good man, but the miraculous gifts of the Spirit before he was baptized :
and baptism was administered on the ground of these previous bestowments.
And so the eunuch ; and most distinctly Lydia. In the instance mentioned.
Acts xix. 6, the effusion of the Spirit followed the laying on of the Apostle's
hands : on the other side Simon Magus (and many like him) received baptism,
but no grace therewith.

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 531
sefvice and ceremony, than of preaching, exhortation, and comrau-
nication of knowledge : it was more a message, a testimony, a
teaching, than a body of rites. Grant all that ma:y be granted on
this side ; yet certainly thfe preponderance remains on the other :
and grant also that when the Gospel had come to be firmly
established in any place, then the relative amount of the two
elements of religion — the instructive and the ritual, might under
go some change ; yet we are not warranted in believing that
the scale should ever so turn as that the first should almost dis
appear, whfle the second should stand as the exclusive object of
serious regard.
Now on this ground the contrast is striking between apostolic
Christianity and the church system of the nicene age, and still
more striking between that earliest type of our religion, and the
romish system ; for, in the nicene church, the preacher's part was
still a prominent one. But in this instance again, ' church prin
ciples,' as now maintained, much more nearly resemble the romish,
or recent, than the nicene, or ancient scheme of worship. In
this scheme the rite, the liturgical performance — the part in which
the priest is the principal, or the sole agent, stands foremost ;
while that vital communion of mind with mind which preaching
should effect, recedes into the back-ground, or is so wrought into
the mass of ceremony as to attract as little regard as possible.
Preaching, which appears to have been the great apostolic em
ployment, and fhe main engine of all good, has come, among the
professors of church principles, to be regarded as little better than
the puritanical scum of the protestant reforming ebullition. For
the ministers of religion tb preach so much, and to throw them
selves so forward among the sympathies of the people, it is felt,
is at once to derange the due equipoise betvveen priest and people,
atod to Open the way lot far more movement than he may after
wards find hiinself able to control. A religion almost wholly
liturgical steers clear of the many perils that beset a religion of
preaching, such as was apostolic Christianity.
A method of reasoning by approximations may sometimes be
employed with good effect in bringing biblical evidence to bear
upon modern religious systems : as thus ; — if various schemes,
either of doctrine or of church polity, offer themselves to our
N N 2

532 church principles—according to
choice, we may take up some one passage, apparently bearing
upon the particular question at issue between these different
systems, and bringing them severally to it as a test, reject, first,
that one which we feel to be least of all compatible with its ira
port; and so proceed araong the rival doctrines, until the com
petition be shared by two only, so that we may weigh the
comparative merit of the two, without distraction.
Now, in this manner, a passage in the Acts presents itself,
peculiarly proper to our purpose, as a test, applicable to the now
competing notions of ecclesiastical economy. I refer to Paul's
remarkable valedictory address to the elders of the Ephesian
church, summoned to meet him at Miletus.*
This address has every quality fitting it to the purpose to which
we are applying it : it is official, not merely popular ; and having
been delivered to the rulers of the Ephesian church apart, and
remote from the body of believers, it is likely to be the less
mixed with any extrinsic allusions : it is formal, not incidental :
it is in the highest degree solemn, at the same time blended with
expressions of the deepest and the liveliest emotions ; the warmest
affections, on the one part and on the other, giving to every word
all the weight which language can ever bear. This valedictory
charge is moreover cautionary, more than congratulatory ; and
therefore will go the deeper into whatever topics it touches. Do
we then assurae too much in supposing that the spirit, and the
principal characteristics of apostolic Christianity wfll make them
selves apparent in this signal discourse ?
With Paul's heart-stirring and calmly impassioned exhortation
before us, let it be imagined that he was the shrewd, cold-natured,
captious believer of the least possible, whose study it was to steer
always as near in-shore of worldly wisdom as might he ; and that
his first care was to repress araong his hearers any eraotion in
religion that might go a little too far. If there are any who
can imagine the speaker, in this instance, to have been any such
person, they are welcome to their opinion, which we shall not now
endeavour to disturb.
But we may take an opposite extreme case, and try to think of
• Acts XX. 17—38. I would request the reader to turn to the passage.

the acts of the apostles. 533
Paul as a ' holy eremite,' after the finished model of the nicene
age — just such a one as the most glorious and immaculate of the
saints who figure in the Lausiac history ! do not the character
istics accord ? Was not the Apostle a man who had renounced
every human affection, good and bad — lost in abstraction — silent,
moody, wasted and shrivelled by perpetual fasting, his back
scored by self-inflicted penances, an iron spike festering in his
flesh — hirsute, and filthy in person and garb, and such that,
although he calls himself a seraph, men might be in danger of
mistaking him for the most savage and unclean of beasts ? In a
word, was not this Paul, whom we have before us in the narrative
of Luke, just such another as the ' blessed Paul,' whose virtues
and miracles are pictured by Jerome ? Let those think so who
please. Or let us take a very different idea of christian perfection, say
that of a Hildebrand, an Innocent, an Urban, a Sextus, a Julius :
— the hierarch, swollen with the most enormous conceptions of
church power, grasping, in mind and heart, all powers and faculties,
as well of this world, as of the world to come ;— sitting an irre
sponsible lord in the temple of God, claiming for himself divine
honours, and hurling thunders, and worse than thunders, at the
heads of his adversaries. Let us imagine Paul as the archetype
of the men who dethroned refractory princes, who consigned
thousands to the flames, who, by all means of impudent extortion,
araassed boundless wealth, which they expended in shameless
debauchery. Even this is believed by some — namely — that these
high churchmen were the true successors of the Apostles.
We may however draw nearer to a possible supposition. Now,
if we look to what appears to have been the rudiraents of a church
systera as implied, though not affirmed, in the discourse of the
Apostle, it may he inquired whether these are such as may consist
with the notions and practices of those among us who take the
very lowest ground, as to the ministerial office and authority,
either denying, altogether, the perraanent distinction which invests
the rainisters of religion, personally, with a spiritual right toward
the people ; or, putting the ministerial office on such a footing as
must, ordinarily, render the teacher and the (nominal) ruler the
creature of the taught and of the governed. Now, in contrariety

534 cuuiicH principles — according to
to any such notions or practices as these, the plain import of this
passage, as well as certain definite expressions, compels us to
believe that the Ephesian church, as constituted under the eye of
the Apostles, was taught and governed by men personally and
permanently constituted for those purposes, and of whose liability
to popular control we in this place find no indications whatever.
Looking at this passage in the calmest manner, and let us be
permitted to say — merely as a document of church history, one
must feel that it very poorly consists with the sovereign demo
cratic principle, which has been assumed by some as the law of
church government.
With equal force an inference on the other hand, derivable
from the 33d and two following verses, implicitly condemns
any ecclesiastical constitution in which much more regard is had
to the pecuniary advantage of the clergy, than to the spiritual
welfare of the people. The shepherd is not to be known to the
flock more by the shears, than by the crook.
To approximate still nearer to our iramediate arguraent, we
may next apply the apparent intention and spirit ol Paul's dis
course, as a test, in discriminating between the ecclesiastical sys
tem embodied in the nicene church economy, or this system as
now revived under the designation of 'high church principles,'
and — another system, of which, in the main, the lives and wTitings
of the reformers of the sixteenth century, german, swiss, and
english, embody the temper and principles.
Now, in the first place, a dispassionate historic estimate of the
import of this passage must lead us to notice the fact that, where
as the nicene, and stfll more the modern edition of the nicene
church system, is distinguished by the prominent place it assigns
to the ritual elements of religion, and takes its character from its
attaching a paramount importance to the two sacraments, this for
mal, official, and most solemn summary of apostolic advice — this
model of episcopal charges is not found to contain so much as
one mention of the sacraments, or the remotest incidental allusion
to the rituals of Christianity. We are far from thence inferring
that the sacraments were not in the speaker's mind as inseparable
parts of a church system : any such supposition is excluded by
what is met with in the immediate context. But we do, and

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 535"
with confidence, infer— that is to say, if this document is to be
made use of as evidence, according to the admitted principles of'
historic reasoning — we do confidentiy infer that the ritual and
sacramental doctrine, such as it is found in the writings of the
nicene theologians and in those of their modern admirers, was not
known to the apostle Paul, and that, on the contrary, a very dif
ferent — an essentially different idea of Christianity occupied his
mind, and warmed his heart, while delivering this noted charge.
Paul, as one must believe, had discharged his conscience toward
the Lord, and toward the people, in delivering a testimony to all,
the substance of which was ' repentance toward God, and faith
toward our Lord Jesus Christ.'
Unmoved by the prospect of afflictions, or even death, Paul
was mindful only of the trust which he had received from the
Lord ; and this trust, or ministry, which he hoped to finish with
joy, was, in his view of it, properly designated as — ' a bearing
testimony to the glad tidings of the grace of God.' Uttered on so
peculiar an occasion, and under the guidance of the Spirit of truth,
this language we are bound to consider, not as bringing together
loose or technical phrases, but as the fittest that could be found
for conveying the very character of the religion of Christ. Now
this expression, even if it might be forcibly bent to mean — ' esta
blishing everywhere liturgical and sacramental offices,' according
to modern romanist and Oxford Tract notions of Christianity,
needs no gloss or torture when understood in the protestant sense
of a preaching to all men those great doctrines of the atonement,
and justification by faith, and of the operations of the Spirit, which
render Christianity indeed a joyous message, and which give
honour to the ' grace of God.' On the clearest principles of
historical interpretation, Paul's expressions on this occasion
must be held to accord incomparably better with the pro
testant, than they do with the romanist, or high-church-principle-
sense, even granting that they could at all be squared to this
sense. — What sort of glad-tidings, declaratory of God's rich and free
favour toward guilty man, was the ascetic doctrine, just such as
it is set forth by the nicene writers, one and all, and which taught
that by watchings, fastings, continence, tears, spikes, sackcloth,

536 CHURCH principles — according to
prayers, pflgtimages, a man may earn God's favour? — Or what
sort of glad-tidings is it that forgiveness of sins, after baptisra,
must always be uncertain, and is only to be obtained by a course
of penance ? Not as a theologian, but as calmly analyzing a
document of history, I put the alternative before honest men,
whether the nicene, romish, and Oxford Tract interpretation, or
the protestant, best consists with the terms employed by the
Apostle ; and if in this instance, there he a preponderance on the
side of the latter, then, by their own principles, are those bound
to yield to it, whose professed rule it is, in matters of religion,
to bow devoutly to — a sufficient, even if it be not a conclusive
amount of evidence.
But further ; Paul reminds the Ephesian elders that, in testi
fying to all, Jews and Greeks, repentance toward God, and faith
toward our Lord Jesus Christ, he had, in doing so, kept back
nothing that might be advantageous to thera ; and that he had
' not shunned to declare to thera all (the whole) counsel of God,'
that is to say — whatever had been revealed to the Apostles, as
matter of faith and duty. It may be replied — ' yes, to the elders
- — the initiated.' — It is not so — ' I kept back nothing, of things
profitable, but have announced all,' dripoaiif icai Kar o'lKovg — ' in the
common assembly of the people, as well as privately,' and in the
homes of the few. Now treating our document equitably — as we
should any other, does this apostolic profession consist with the
disciplina arcani, or the practice so miserably adopted, soon
afterwards, of holding back all the chief points of christian doctrine,
from the mass of believers ? The Oxford Tract writers, following
the nicene (and going beyond them) explicitly tell us that the
doctrine of Christ's divinity, and of the atonement, ought to be
reserved for the ears of the most advanced christians, and that to
proclaim them openly and clearly, from the pulpit, before pro
miscuous congregations, is an unwarrantable practice, not justified
by any thing in the Gospels or the Epistles. Again, not as a
theologian, but as a reader of history, I challenge the endeavour
to reconcile any such doctrine of reserve with the language of Paul
in the instance before us. — It is flagrantly opposed to the un
questionable meaning of the apostolic words : and if this language
be opposed to the ancient disciplina arcani, how does it contradict

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 537
the modern high church principle of restricting the promulgation,
even of the popular elements of Christianity !
No mind gifted with ingenuousness and moral sensibility, can,
for a moraent, doubt the genuineness and reality of the passage
before us : — all external evidence apart, or if the book had corae
to us destitute of every particle of historical proof, never could it
be read as a fabrication ; or none but debflitated and sophisticated
minds could do so. But then this irresistible demonstration of
historic truth springs from the inimitable exhibition which it oJ^rs,
of strong and peculiar emotions. Every bosom alive to moral sen
tiraents of a pure and elevated kind, responds to these expressions
ofthe yearnings ofahumble, lofty, benevolent, and energetic spirit:
— it is life that is before us — the life ol feeling ; and it is feeling
intense indeed, but immeasurably remote from exaggeration, ex
travagance, or affectation.
In this point of view, then, one cannot but bring the passage
into comparison with some of those modes of deep feeling which
have sprung from ascetic, or high church, or mystic principles.
But in this instance I can only appeal to those who are in some
degree familiar with the writers of the classes referred to, inasmuch
as it is not from a few passages, gathered as samples, that a fair
estimate could be formed of the temper of the men so brought
forward. Making such an appeal then, I venture to say that the
characteristics either of suUenness, arrogance, rigidity, sanctimo
nious malevolence, or of inflation and presumption, attach, gene
rally, to these writers ; and that, in a large proportion of instances,
where much feeling is demonstrated, there are syraptoms too
nearly resembling deep hypocrisy. An ingenuous mind can pass
through no trial of its religious principles so severe as that to
which it is exposed in a course of patristic study : the preservation
of his faith as a christian would make a man rather choose to
spend the same time in the thickest of the world, and where he
expects nothing better than worldly motives. In the society of
these ascetics, and mystics, and high churchmen, a terrible sus
picion, either of utter baseness and falseness, or of delusion,
bordering on insanity, haunts one from page to page : nor is it
soon that one gets possession of a principle sufficient for saving
the first elements of religious faith, in such society.

538 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
— These ascetics — these mystics— these high churchmen, while
conversant with those elements of religion which throw the huraan
mind off from the path of vulgar and ordinary sentiraents, had
renounced, or lost all consciousness of, the genuine motives of the
Gospel — those motives which, in restoring the equipoise of human
nature, give a natural fiow to the strongest affections, even whfle
the mind is carried to the highest pitch of excitement. Just in
proportion therefore as these religionists were deeply moved by
reljgious considerations, they were extravagant, unnatural, and
artificial ; and (it is no paradox) the more sincere they were, the
less genuine — the more in earnest, and the more honest, the more
do they excite suspicion. It is always so — powerful emotions,
not harmonized, or not adjusted to the real principles of human
nature, produce appearances so nearly resembling hypocrisy and
fraud, that the individuals are liable to imputations which do
them a wrong. The opprohious epithet — hypocrite, so commonly
thrown at the honest fanatic or enthusiast, is the world's rough
judgment, in an instance demanding a far nicer discriraination than
it is qualified to exercise.
It is not until we find ourselves in the society of the men who,
in the sixteenth century, recovered (by a return to the apostolic
writings) the great principles of the Gospel — it is not until then,
that we meet with powerful religious affections, flowing in the
channels of natural — or, let us say, of unsophisticated feelings,
and therefore, so as to be exempt from the reraotest suspicion of
hypocrisy. This taunt of — ' hypocrite!' thrown at religious men
(often indeed unjustly) yet too often with a colour of probabiUty,
did not come into the mouths of the irreligious until the next
century, when again Christianity had in various ways become
vitiated, in a lamentable degree.
We have already observed (p. 479) that our Lord's recorded
discourses with his disciples, barely contain a single note of
hope, as to the course of events in this world, or the future
condition of his church, and the progress of his religion. This
circumstance, important as it is in connexion with the evidences
of Christianity, is also not less significant as related to the pre
tensions of Rome, and to the theory of church principles. It
seems as if the Founder of the christian faith, in looking forward

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 539
through the course of ages, was unwUling to recognise, either in
the lofty bearing of the church in the fourth century, or in the
power and splendour ofthe papacy, any elements of prosperity in
which He could claim a share. — Remote from all this glare and
noise. His church was weeping and pining in the wilderness,
whither she had been fain to flee !
Now we ought not to overlook the very same characteristic
of an uncheered prospect of futurity, attaching also to Paul's
solemn valedictory charge to the Ephesian elders. Had it been
the fact that he was authorized, by any intimations from heaven,
to animate the hopes of the faithful with bright anticipations of
the future prosperity of the visible church, might not a single ray
of this much-needed consolation have been afforded to these
shepherds of the flock ? That no such beam of hope — not even
the faintest glimmer of a coming day, should have enlivened the
prospect, raust be regarded as a most remarkable fact, and that
on the contrary, the Apostle's prescience, and his predictions, em
braced 7ione but sombre objects ! Fierce persecutions from with
out, and still more fatal seductions springing from the bosom of
the Church, are the only events that stand before the seer's eye,.
when he looks into the dim futurity of christian history !
We may, if we please, assume that, although the future and
soon-coming splendour of the Church was actually in the Apostle's
prospect — just as the golden blaze of day glares from the flanks
and summits of a mountain range, even while the darkness of
night stretches far over the intervening plains — yet that he might
not deem it expedient, or might not be permitted, to open tiiis
vista of good things to come. Be it so : but at least it is certain
that church history, read by aid of the candle of the reformation,
finds no contradiction in the prophetic language, either of Christ,
or of his Apostles ; while, if perused under the glowing radiance
of high church principles, nothing in that language accords with
the interpretation which, in that light, we must put upon the
course of events. I am unable to conjecture hy what means
an intelligent romanist can adjust the general purport of the
predictive portions of the New Testament, with the facts of church
history, when these are understood in his sense. — The visible
church, speedily extending itself — overthrowing its rival and

540 CHURCH PRINCIPLES — ACCORDING TO
persecutor, and at length ascending to the very summit of secular
and spiritual power — ruling the world with a rod of iron, con
trolling kings, and stretching a sceptre of absolute domination
far into the invisible and future world, and throughout the cycles
of eternity — all this was in the horizon, and yet neither Christ,
nor Paul, nor James, nor Jude, no, nor Peter, under whose hand
a greater empire than that of Babylon, or of imperial Rome was
to be ruled, not even Peter, seems to have foreseen this dazzling
brightness !
But we return for a moment to the weeping company assembled
on the Miletian shore. — ' The Church of God * which he hath
purchased.' — An abstract idea, designated by this phrase, and
which included something raore than the particular company of
Ephesian believers, no doubt filled the Apostle's mind. Although
then thinking of that one company, it was only as a portion of a
whole. He was accustomed, as is manifest, to think of the
church abstractedly, and collectively ; nor is it necessary to sup
pose that, on every occasion, he distinctly sundered the purely
abstract, from the concrete elements which the word brings to
gether : on the contrary, perhaps, and inasmuch as the two were
then more intimately coincident than they have ever since been,
Paul raight, with no conscious distinction, think of the true
church, and of the visible body of professed christians, as one and
the same : all this might have been, and it is easily conceived of:
but when we come to later times, or if we come at once to our
own, it wfll be found that the circumstance of not distinguishing
between the two ideas, or of taking the one for the other, or of
dwelling upon, or speaking of them conversely, may be considered
as a sure criterion of the religious temperament of different minds.
Religious minds of the purest order — the most truly heavenlj'
in temper, and the least implicated, by prejudice or interest, with
this world's affairs, and the least coloured by ecclesiastical attach
ments, will be found, as I think, to employ the phrase ihe church,
much rather in its abstract and spiritual sense, than in any other;
and only in the way of compliance, or of complaisance, in the
sense of a visible polity. The extreme opposite of such minds
*0r, -TOU Kvpiov.

the acts of the apostles. 541
are those of a thoroughly worldly frame, to which the comfortable
phrase—' the church,' conveys bright associations of ease, revenue,
rank, and whatever else is the most secure, and the most enviable,
among this world's good things. But there are many intervening
temperaments, between these extremes ; and it is one of these,
at all times the raost marked and considerable, and the most
worthy of regard, to which extraordinary prominence is given by
the modern revival of high church principles.
The varieties of this species meet the eye in all ages. Minds
of lofty structure, abstractive, meditative, and especially imagi
native, and conjoined with a temper reserved, haughty, and
austere, even if submissive and obsequious ; such minds, various
as they may be in their adjunctive qualities, are known by
their propensity to devote themselves to objects not at all
appreciable as good by the mass of mankind, and which are
recomraended — it is hard to say by what definable excellences.
Men of this peculiar stamp may properly coraplain of the gross
injustice that is done thera by vulgar observers, who suppose
thera to be actuated by personal ambition, or by sorae distinct
prospect of power or wealth to accrue to themselves as individuals :
their aim is far higher. On the other hand, such men in an equal
degree misjudge their own motives, when they claim the praise
that belongs to the disinterested benefactor, or philanthropist. —
There may indeed be sparks of kindness in their hearts ; but
benevolence is by no means the ruling influence of their
conduct. That it is not, we may be sure, when we mark not
only the quick but the deep resentments of which they are
susceptible, and see to how many harboured grudges against
large masses of their fellow men, they give constant entertain
ment ; and this on the ground of the most attenuated pretexts,
spun out of uninteUigible abstractions. Such bosoms the homes
of a pure phflanthropy ! nay, as well look into the gloomy hall
of a feudal baron, hung with riven helmets, pierced cuirasses,
swords, spears, cross-bows, battle-axes, and banners, and call it
the palace of peace ! Such men, keenly alive to whatever is vast,
or terrible or tender, and purely imaginative, in Christianity, and
being so far poetic in constitution as is possible to those who
are destitute of genuine elevation of soul and sound moral sense.

542 CHURCH PRINCIPLES— ACCORDING TO
feel, in the profoundest manner, all sympathies connecting the
beauty of the natural world, with the powers of the moral world ;
and yet not entering deep among what are really moral emotions.
To such, THE CHURCH is the awful idol of their devotion — the
MOTHER, for whom they entertain an affection so pararaount as
to reduce to a subordinate place, not merely social loves, and
broad good will to their fellow men, but also (little as they
may think it) the Divine Being hiraself: — to such raen (all their
language and conduct betrays the secret) God their Saviour is
adored, because they love the Church and the Church worships
God. This unearthly (yet not heavenly) heing — the devotee of the
Church, is of course fashioned in every age, according to its
particular position at that tirae, whether it be suffering and
depressed, or lifted to the pinnacle of power. In looking
through the list of church worthies, a specimen altogether decisive
does not occur before the instance of the martyr-bishop of Car
thage. Unquestionably sincere as was Cyprian, his mind con
structed on the roman model, and formed to grasp the ideal of
government, and highly sensitive to the love of power, found in
Christianity what, at that time, was not easily to be met with in
the world — a sphere of uncontrolled influence, within which a
lofty spirit might signalize its energy. Corapare Cyprian with
the gifted and mild-tempered Origen — both sufferers for truth as
they were, and one feels the vast difference between the church
man and the christian.
Not to name certain ambitious pastors of vulgar mould, and
who acquired, in their day, raore notoriety than posterity has
allowed them fame — not to mention such, and to exempt the
venerable Athanasius from an implication of this sort, whose
devotions were paid more to abstract truth, or doctrine, than to
church power — Jerome would find his place : and a remarkable
instance he is of the kind, inasmuch as his freedom from personal
ambition, gives so much the more prominence to the exorbitance
of his ecclesiastical temper. St. Bernard's was a purer flarae ;
and his churchraanship was so expanded by various and bright
inteUectual endowments, and was so raised by the force of
energetic (genuine may we say ?) religious sentiments, as that.

TIIE ACTS OF TIIE APOSTLES. 543
whfle it swelled beyond all measure, it was itself hid behind his
moral and intellectual greatness.
Little comfort should we find in dwelling upon names, such as
those of Hildebrand, Dominic, Ximenes, Loyola, Laud : —
churchmen of so high an order as that, with them, the round
world itself, with all its sensitive millions, and with the full sum
of the welfare of all, would have weighed nothing against a single
point of the honour of their grim goddess. Better the world perish,
than the Church receive a flaw, or submit to an insult !
During periods of repose, and while the Church occupies the
place of undisputed political ascendency, as well as enjoys her
temporal goods in security, high churchraanship assumes only its
worldly attributes, and speaks in the tones much rather of the
secular partisan, than of the spiritual chief. But a rude wintry
blast, or merely the gathering of clouds to windward, awakens
spirits of another order, and brings out church principles of a
loftier and more refined sort. So it is at the present moment ;
and the sudden appearance, and ripening, during the last ten
years, of ecclesiastical doctrines far more deep, towering, and
exclusive than have ever yet been professed in this country
(except at moments of extraordinary excitement) is nothing but
what might have been anticipated as a necessary reaction from a
course of political events, and a tendency of popular opinions,
unparalleled in themselves, and involving peculiar perils in regard
to the established episcopal church.
Every thing has, in our times, been caUed in question, every
thing has been threatened, every thing has been rudely assailed.
What else, then, was likely to happen, than that a profound ex
citement should work at the core of the episcopal church— an
excitement going far beneath the surface of political agitation, or
party zeal ? If, at such moment, there were found within the
bosom of the Church, and especially in places of influence, any
minds capable of elevated sentiments, and of devoted temper,
such would not fail to catch inspiration in the storm, and to
kindle a high enthusiasm from the raging winds. — Such will rush
to the altar, and swear themselves to the confessor's or the mar
tyr's part : — and, if occasion were to permit, they would no doubt
make good their profession.

544 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
But such men must desire to have a church worthy of their
devotion to its welfare, and in harmony with an enthusiasm so
refined. The protestant episcopal establishment of this country,
as fashioned by the reformers — the bishops, and martyrs of
the Marian persecution, is not the church which high church
principles can well consist with. This is now confessed on all
sides. Although the wording of the offices and the articles
may be submitted to — until better times shall come, they are far
from giving contentment to men who know what consistency on
their side must demand. Much less can any of those modern
interpretations of the church's doctrine and principles, be endured,
by means of which an accommodation has heen attempted with
her opponents. Even the anti-reformation temper of the seven
teenth century scarcely satisfies the exigency of the present crisis ;
and if Paley be held insufferable, Jeremy Taylor is but coldly
approved. The good and great men of Taylor's time had too
fresh a recoUection of the horrors of popish tyranny, and too pro
found a sense of the thorough viciousness of romanism, to allow
them to speak of that church, otherwise than became honest and
christian raen.
Whither then shall our modern churchmen betake theraselves ?
no doubt to the nicene church, many reasons forbidding thera to
pass over to the church of Rome. This refuge is in fact a good
one, or may be deemed good, so long as no prying inquiries con
cerning it are set on foot. It is good inasmuch as it embraces all
those necessary elements of imaginative and austere pietism (su
perstition and asceticism) which recommend the romish systera —
yet avoiding ecclesiastical conditions which could not be submitted
to. It is embellished too by every adjunct of historic splendour,
so powerful in its influence over minds more imaginative than
rational ; and it is a safe retreat also, so long as an assumption,
ten thousand times repeated, and seldom examined, is held invi
olate — that whatever is found near the apostolic times, must
be — apostolic.
So far all seems well, and the only practical difficulties
that have hitherto embarrassed the course of the champions of
church principles, have been those which have resulted from their
untoward position in relation, first, to the founders of the pro-

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 545,
testant church, and then to the secular power in these days of
fiherafism. But there are difficulties more deep and serious which, sooner
or later — that is to say, as soon as the state of the case comes to
he generaUy understood, must be encountered. To the most obvious
of these difficulties I have, iu these numbers, frequently adverted :
— I mean that which presents itself when it appears that the fun
damental principle of the nicene church system, the ascetic philo
sophy, was what the protestant church excludes and condemns.
The next difficulty, aud it is hastening to press upon the
conduct of the Oxford Tract divines aud their disciples, arises
from the fact indisputable as it is, although hitherto little re
garded, that the difference between the nicene church and the
romish, relating as it does almost exclusively to ecclesiastical
usages, or to political arrangements, is not such as to be a sufficient
ground of separation, on the acknowledged high church doctrine,
in regard to schism. It will be impossible, or it ought to be
so, for the professors of church principles to make good, much
longer, their own position as ministers of a schismatic church : —
denouncing the reformers, and admitting the romish church to
be only erring in some of its practices, these parties condemn
themselves on both hands :— they are sawing the branch on which
they sit.
But an embanassment perhaps more fatal, although of an un
obtrusive kind, is working its way toward the Oxford Tract
writers. — From the tirae of the outburst of the reforming energy —
we might say the middle of the twelfth century, the adherents of
the papacy, reeking with venom, and irritated by fear, began to
affirm principles altogether unknown, either to the nicene writers,
or to the popes and doctors of the intermediate age. These prin
ciples, as the reformation proceeded, assumed a more con
densed form, and have settled down into the modern papistical
doctrine and practice of depreciating and excluding the Scriptures,
and of stopping, so far as possible, all inquiry and reflection among
the laity, So did not the preachers and writers of the fourth
century ; — they would have shuddered to do so.
But now, in these times of breadth, laxity, popular instruction,
free inquiry, and wide evangelizing zeal, church principles are
o o

546 CHURCH PRINCIPLES  ACCORDING TO
exposed to a peril not less imminent than that which hung over
the papacy in the tridentine age. A course therefore must be
pursued, under these similar circumstances, analogous to that of
the church of Rome, when threatened with reformation on all
hands. The language of jealousy, and of exclusiveness, and of
mystery, and of repression, must be had recourse to, and a style
adopted differing in nothing but a few phrases, from that of the
Holy Office, under Ferdinand and Isabella. The Oxford Tract
writers raight as soon adopt the language of the lowest liberalism
as that of their patrons, the nicene fathers, on any subjects con
nected with the popular study, or the diffusion of the Scriptures.
When therefore all the facts of the case come to be fully stated
and generally understood, it wfll appear that, whfle the charge of
popery advanced against these writers has been incorrect and
inconsiderate, if certain points of worship and discipline charac
teristic of romanism are thought of, such a charge is but too
well founded if we have in view the bearing of the system upon
protestant evangelic moveraents. — The Oxford Tract divines would
undoubtedly give the cup to the laity: — but not the Bible.
They do not acknowledge the spiritual authority of the bishop of
Rome, in these islands ; but they refuse to acknowledge any
ministrations of Christ's word and ordinances to be valid — to be
christian, which have not drawn their efficacy through some pope's
fingers. A church which addresses its prayers to the virgin and
saints, is — 'in error;' but christian congregations approaching
the One God through the one Mediator — if out of the pale of
episcopacy, constitute no church, and are in peril of — ' no sal
vation.' These high churchmen of our times, as compared with
the most rigid romanists, want nothing hut their consistency ; —
or compared with the nicene fathers, while equally superstitious
and equally austere, they have, or seem to have, far less warmth
and zeal ; and manifestly they entertain lower thoughts of the
excellence, the supreme authority, and the popular efficiency of
the holy Scriptures.
A movement, natural indeed under all the circumstances, but
ill considered in its details — perhaps even commenced previously
to the acquirement of ample patristic lore, has already brought a
¦arge number of the clergy of the protestant church into a position,

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 547
the difficulties of which must gather around them, and thicken
every year, until a way of escape be sought for on the path of
schism, or even of revolutionary changes.
For, let these opinions spread as they may — and hitherto they
have spread very little among the laity, there will not be wanting a
large body of clergy, who will not be so beguiled, who, well-in
formed on the subject, are cordially and immovably attached to the
reformation, and who, not accustomed to speak of the events of
1688 as ' a rebellion,' will be jealous of opinions which would
throw the country back, three hundred years as to the Church,
and a hundred and fifty as to the State.
These adherents of the reformation — the adherents of Christi
anity itself, have only to express themselves distinctly, and they
would have on their side a force of opinion not to be resisted, and
the proraoters of nicene superstitions must then follow the path
which certain of their predecessors have trodden.

548

THE EUCHARISTIC LITURGY, ATTRIBUTED TO
CHRYSOSTOM.

It may well be questioned whether, even where nothing worse
takes place in the course of time than an accumulation of cere
monies, and the complication of liturgical forms, the simplicity
and purity of religious sentiments can be preserved. There can,
however, be no room for any such question, if, with the increase
of ritual soleranities, notions are conveyed by these added ob
servances of which no trace is to be discovered in the pristine
institution. It is thus with the two sacramental rites of the
nicene church : — not merely were ceremonies heaped upon the
original ordinance, but they were ceremonies of a kind which
could not but suggest to the people a belief concerning these
rites for which the inspired writings afford no warrant.
What the discrepancy was between the apostolic sacramental
institution, so far as we can gather its import from the passing
allusions of Scripture, and the institution as ripened in the nicene
age, may be seen by looking into the liturgies of the eastern and
western churches, as digested in the next century. The substance
of these liturgies is unquestionably of a higher antiquity than the
age in which they were compiled, as we now have them; nor do
they, in their present state, involve any opinions which are not
supported by passages in the writers of the preceding century.
The liturgy of the constantinopolitan church, which (in its
actual form) has been wrongly attributed to Chrysostom, and is
appended to his works, may without hazard be regarded as evi
dence of the sacramental practice of the church to which his
preaching and writings had given a character. Whatever it offers
which would most surprise a modern reader, may find a warrant
more or less direct, in some part of his voluminous works. Some

THE eucharistic LITURGY, ETC. 549
passages and phrases of this liturgy may serve the purpose of show
ing how very little the romish church has done to exaggerate or
encuraher the ritual system which it inherited. We are accustomed
to inveigh against the romish mass book : — Let us look into the
constantinopolitan. As to the eucharistic doctrine, there may be
distinctions, which 1 am not acute enough to descry, between
Chrysostom's belief and that of the roraish church ; yet 1 doubt if
one reader in ten thousand would suppose any thing else than
that the foUowing was the language of a believer in transubstan
tiation :— ' Hold not that it is bare bread and wine :— it is body and
blood, according to the Lord's declaration. Judge not the matter
by taste ; but according to the undouhting confidence of faith ! ' *
The 'Order of Divine Sacrifice' commences with an instruction
to the officiating priest, enjoining previous continence and fasting
and confession ; and then directs that, when he enters the temple,
with the deacon, both shall make three reverences — irpotrKvvijpaTa
toward the east, and before the image of the Saviour, and of the
most holy Theotokos (mother of God), and one reverence to each
of the choirs.
The priest then implores grace that he may duly perform
the ' bloodless sacrifice.' Then follow the ceremonies of taking
up, blessing, kissing, and putting on, the several officiating
vestments. The eucharistic bread, it appears, was fashioned
crosswise, or in four limbs, and impressed with the sign of the
cross on each limb. In preparation for the consecration the priest
took a ' holy spear,' with which he performed various touchings,
and piercing, of the cruciform loaf, or cake ; after which it was
elevated, and then replaced in the charger : the deacon, addressing
the priest says, ' Slay, sir ! ' Then the priest immolates the holy
cake, saying, ' The Lamb of God is slain who taketh away the
sin of the world.' Then the deacon says, ' Prick, sir,' and the
priest pierces the cake, on the right side, with the holy lance : at
the same moment the deacon pours wine and water into the
chalice. Then the priest, taking the second oblation, says, ' In honour
and remembrance of our most blessed and glorious Lady, Thco-
• Tom. xii. p. 10O5. If any doubt attach to these Homilies — Ecloga:, let it
be admitted.

550 THE EUCHARISTIC LTIURGY, ETC.
tokos, and ever-virgin Mary, through whose intercessions accept,
O Lord, this sacrifice upon thy celestial altar.'
In making the third oblation the priest recites a long list of
saints and doctors,* commemorated on that day, and of all saints »
' hy whose prayers protect us, O God.' Then follows a prayer
commemorative, and for the remission ofthe sins ofthe founders
of the church. ' Here the priest names those, whether living or
dead,' to whom he refers. The offering of incense is followed hy
a long ceremonial of veiUng and unveiling, lifting and depressing,
kissing, and blessing, and bowing, and crossing, interspersed with
prayers, and passages of Scripture, and supplications, in this style
— ' 0 Christ our true God, we beseech thee by the intercessions of
the most holy, undefiled, and over-all-blessed and glorious Mary
our Lady, Theotokos, and always virgin, by the might of the
honourable and life-giving cross, and of all the saints, have mercy
upon us, our good and benevolent God.'
At length the deacon, reverently placing the dish or charger
on his head, and carrying the censer; and the priest, carrying
the chalice, the two perambulate the church, reciting prayers, and
pronouncing blessings.
After the consecration, follow prayers, and, among them,
' For repose, and remission of sins for the soul of N.' At the
elevation of the host all bow and worship. The priest and
deacon then partake of the bread and wine, with complicated
ceremonies ; the priest saying to the deacon, as he communicates
— ' This hath touched thy lips, and thine iniquities are taken
away, and thy sins are purged.' Another round of prayers
brings the priest and the deacon to the spot where the chalice is
exhibited to the people, and the bread distributed among thera.
Such was the comment put by the nicene church upon that
'breaking of bread,' of which we read in the Acts of the
Apostles ! » Some of these names are a later interpolation.

END OF VOL. I.

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