'YAILE«'¥]MII¥lEI^SlIir¥''

DIVINITY SCHOOL
TROWBRIDGE LIBRARY

RULING IDEAS IN EARLY AGES

RULING IDEAS
IN EARLY AGES

AND, THEIR RELATION TO

OLD TESTAMENT FAITH

lectures delivered to
graduates of the university of oxford

BY

J. B. MOZLEY, D.D.
LATE CANON OF CHRIST CHORCH, AND REGIUS PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

third edition

RIVINGTONS
WATERLOO PLACE, LONDON
MDCCCLXXXIV

TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LORD BLACHFORD,
IN MEMORY OF COLLEGE DAYS,
WHEN HE FIRST LEARNT TO ESTIMATE IN HIM
HIGH GIFTS OF MIND AND HEART,
•THIS VOLUME
IS INSCRIBED
BY HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND,
THE AUTHOR.
Christ Church, Nov. 23, 1876.

AD VERTISEMENT.
The following course of ten Lectures was delivered to
Graduates mostly engaged in tuition in Michaelmas
and Lent terms, 1874-1875.
Thp Lecture on St. Augustine's controversy with
the Manichseans is one of a previous course, but is
added here as bearing closely upon the main subject
of the present volume.

CONTENTS. LECTURE L
ABRAHAM.
Abraham the introducer of a new and pure religion — Early paganism
could not conceive the worship of God — The character of Abraham
as a man of independent thought — The conception of one God
brought with it the question of the Divine justice — Abraham
lived in the future — His prophetic look singled out by our Lord
— Vestiges of prophecy among the heathen : the Sibyl — Physical
side of prophecy : Bacon — Difference in the treatment of prophecy
by paganism and true religion — Abraham's qualifications for
founding a true religion — Abraham the father and also the apostle
of his nation — Looking forward, he sees his own greatness as a
founder — ^A posthumous name not a Gospel motive — The Gospel
the tidings of a real immortality .... Pages 1-30

LECTURE il
SACRIFICE OF ISAAC.
Usual answer to objectors on the summary mode of dealing with human
life in Old Testament — Bishop Butler — Certain Divine commands
once proved by miracles would not be proved by them now —
Eights of human life part of the moral progress of mankind — One
remarkable want in the ancient mind : the idea of the individu
ality of man — The slave, the wife, the son, all property of another
— Oriental law — Spartan law — Eoman law — Prevalence of human
sacrifices in ancient religions — These defective ideas traceable in
Patriarchal Jewish minds — No opposing argument to a miracle in

xii Contents.
Abraham's mind — Abraham sacrifices a life which he thought his
own — God suits His commands to the age — Self-surrender of the
act — Out of an inferior state of ideas an act of sublime self-
sacrifice was extracted — The rudeness of an age admits of exalted
acts buUt on it — Every period of the world contributes a special
moral beauty  Pages ¦^i-d-^

LECTURE ill
HUMAN SACRIFICES.
Theory of one school that Abraham's sacrifice was after the pattern of
the day — Scripture account plainly against this idea — The sacri
fice of Isaac not an pfiering for sin but a trial of faith — No sin
to be atoned for mentioned — Abraham believed that the victim
would be restored to life — Argument that this would take away
the merit, answered — The act designed as a type of the Great
Propitiation — the Brazen Serpent — The heathen recognised the
principle of sacrifice — Summary of this and preceding Lecture
Pages 64-82
LECTURE IV.
EXTERMINATING WARS.
The right of God to the life of nations the same as to the life of indi-
.viduals — Argument of objectors — Miracles — Samaritan village —
Punishment of children for sins of fathers — Oriental practice of
this mode of retribution — Justice sometimes becomes a passion 
All passion tends to the unreasonable, and makes objects for
itself — Livy — Aristotle — Blood composes identity in Oriental
justice — Israelites shared the general feeling — The command to
> destroy whole nations did not ofiTend their ideas of justice 
Distinction in the mode of holding the principle — No resistance
to it in. the moral sense in early ages — Modern society is pene
trated by a sense of individuality . . . /Wf 8vio?

Contents. xiii
.LECTURE V.
VISITATION OF THE SINS OF FATHERS
UPON CHILDREN.
The task of separating the permanent from the temporary parts of the
law — The Sermon on the Mount — St. Paul only recognises the
perfect law — What the Deity admits because of the hardness of
men's hearts — Commands given in judicial anger — Balaam — The
laws of marriage, divorce, retaliation — Second Commandment —
In the old dispensation children sufiered judicially — We do not
now understand the Second Commandment as judicial but didactic
— ^So understood before the end of Jewish dispensation — Ezekiel
— Bishop Taylor — Bishop Sanderson — Double aspect of extra
ordinary Divine commands — Korah, Dathan, and Abiram ; Achan,
Saul, etc. — Our interpretation of these acts differs from the contem
porary one  Pages 10 ^-¦i2<-^

LECTURE VL
JAEL.
In what light would an enthusiastic mind of that day view the
Israelitish invasion? — Sight of a whole nation worshipping God —
Ancient pagan world believed truth to belong to the few — Civil con
stitution of Israel contrary to that of all heathen nations — Israel
a theocracy — The Exodus — The promulgation of the Law — The
entrance into Canaan — Extraordinary fact of a woman rousing her
countrymen to war — St. Augustine's supposition : Jael must have
known the state of affairs — Destruction of the inhabitants primary
condition of conquest — This condition only suspended — Extracts
from Dr. Stanley — The Judges not qivil but military rulers — Ofi&ce
of Judge — Too commonly imagined that Jael was apart from the
religious influences of the time — More probably one with Israel
in faith — The Kenezites — Jehonadab — Jael's partizanship — Who
Sisera was — His probable character and importance — Jael's
history a fragment  Pages \2(i-\ij2

xiv Contents,

LECTURE VLL
CONNECTION OF JAEL'S ACT WITH THE
MORALITY OF HER AGE.
The command on which Jael acted not one in the full sense of com
mands to Christians — The treachery of her act — St. Paul's posiT
tion on the duty of truth-speaking — When the bonds of charity
are broken, does this affect the duty of truth ? — The argument of
the murderer — Essential for a perfect defence of Jael that the
command on which she acted should be without reserve — This a
command in accommodation — Great omission of that day, idea
of human individuality — Duke of Wellington's character of the
Hindus — Does the defence of Jael's act imply approbation of the
whole of Scripture % — Deborah judged according to the standard
of her own day — Jael's a grand act, on the principle. Love your
friend and hate your enemy — Different position of lying in
civilisation and barbarism — The creed of Love your friend and
hate your enemy fostered subtle mixtures of character — Es^it di
corps-r-We are apt to suppose rude ages simple — What civilisation
has done for truth and plain dealing . . Pages 153-179

LECTURE VIIL
LAW OF RETALIATION.
Biblical critics do not make allowance for a progressive revelation
— Legislation must be legislation for the present moment —
Principle of accommodation— Law of retaliation — Dean Alford on
Matthew v. 38 : Thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine
enemy — Effect of this law in creating es/prit de corps — Tacitus on
the Jewish temper — The enemy not always a heathen to the Jew
—Saul, Ahithophel— Enemy in the Gospel— Case where the enemy
was also enemy of God— The damnatory Psahua Pages 180-200

Contents. xv
LECTURE IX.
RETALIATION : LAW OF GOEL.
The law of Goel—Michaelis— Sanctioned by Moses— Nothing optional
in this law — Mistake of commentators on the passion of revenge
— The task imposed by the law of Goel — Men not always faithful
to rights of the dead — Eude ages not without moderate tactics —
Fines for murder — Hindus — Germans— Death for death the only
way to meet murder — Reference to Lecture V. — Law of Goel not
an inhuman idea to that age — Acts of modern enthusiasts —
An imperfect idea may be moral at the root — Principle of accom
modation—St. Augustine — God may command in judgment —
Opinions of commentators : Calvin ; Theodoret ; TertuUian ;
Chrysostom — Objectoi^'s mode of treating imperfect morality —
Early struggles of the great principle of justice — Power at work in
the Jewish dispensation .... Pages 201-221

LECTURE X.
THE END THE TEST OF A PROGRESSIVE
REVELATION.
Answers to objectors to the foregoing argument — A progressive
revelation may make use of imperfect moral standard — It looked
forward — An inward mind in the system taught ex cathedrd — The
Prophets — The end shows the design of the system — While
accommodating itself to defective ideas it was eradicating them —
No system of philosophy taught the rights of man — The Bible
the charter of man's rights — Ancient empire founded on the
insignificance of man — The vast body of philosophy and poetry
formed by the Bible — Pascal — Great body of infidel literature
founded on same idea — Shelley — The communion of man with
God affected the relation of man with man — The law thus con
tained the secret of his elevation — History shows the law to have
been above the nation — The nation was terrified into a formal

xvi Contents.
obedience — The enforcement of law the task of one dispensation,
its fruits of another — A progressive revelation must be judged by
its end — Higher minds outgrew the law of their dispensation —
Other nations stopped short — In the Jewish nation alone the law
acted as a guide — The great prophetic order — The objector asks
why should Divine Eevelation be subject to conditions? — The
human wiU: its capacity of resistance — The whole question
belongs to the fundamental difficulty of reconciling God's power
with man's free wiU — Miracles — Temporary morals only a
scaffolding  Pages 222-253

LAST LECTURE.
THE MANICH^ANS AND THE JEWISH FATHERS.
St. Augustine as a controversialist — His qualifications — His first con
troversy was with the Manichseans — Language of Manichaeanism
— Hume taken with the theory — Extracts from Hume — John
Stuart Mill on his father's sympathy with dualism — Zoroaster
and the Magi — Manichseanism differed from the ordinary type of
Oriental religions — Aimed at being a universal religion — Professed
to incorporate certain doctrines of Christianity into its system —
Acknowledged no true Incarnation — Objections of Manich^ans
to Old Testament history — It held the family life of the Patriarchs
in contempt, and endeavoured to substitute the Magi as forefathers
instead of the Old Testament Saints — Faustus' language towards
them — Answer of St. Augustine to these objections — He acknow
ledges an imperfect morality in the Old Testament ages — This
does not affect his estimate of the Patriarchs' high sanctity—^
Fundamental unity between Patriarchs and Apostles Pages 254-275

APPENDIX  /'«^« 277-295

LECTURE L
ABRAHAM.
rpHE Patriarch Abraham comes before us in Scrip-
-*- ture under the following main aspects : —
1. He comes before us as the introducer of a new
and pure religious creed and worship — new, I say, for
though the doctrine of one God was part of the prime- ,
val revelation, it had become much corrupted before
Abraham's time. " Your fathers," said Joshua to the
Israelites, " dwelt on the other side of the flood {i.e.,
the Euphrates) in old time, even Terah, the father of
Abraham, and the father of Nachor : and they served
other gods"^ [Note 1). The migration, then, from Chal-
dsea was a religious one — ^the migration of a family
which had cast off the gods of its country, adopted the
worship of one God, and sought a new home where it
might conduct this worship freely. And though the
" call " of Abraham is mentioned in Genesis ^ as sub
sequent to, in St. Stephen's statement^ as prior to,
the journey from Chaldasa, the whole voice of sacred
history declares Abraham to have been, under Divine
inspiration, the leader of that whole movement which
thus set up the worship of the true God in the place
of idols, and separated his family from the corrupt
religion of the world. " Put away," says Joshua,
1 Josh. xxiv. 2. ^ Gen. xii. 1. ' Acts vii. 2, 3.
B

2 Abraham.
" the gods which your fathers served on the other side
the flood;" and "I took your father Abraham from
the other side the flood." ^
Open idolatry then was the religion of the genera
tion in which Abraham was born ; he was brought up
and educated under it, it was in possession of the
ground, and it pressed upon him with all the power
of association and authority. But at a certain time
of life Abraham comes before us as having rejected
this creed and worship, having thrown off the chains
of custom, and released himself from the thraldom of
early associations : as holding the great doctrine of
one God, whom he worships by means of a spiritual
conception only, without the aid of figure or symbol.
He comes before us as the re-introducer into the world
of the great normal idea of worship ; — that idea which,
descending through the Jewish and Christian dispensa
tions in succession, is the basis of the religion of the
whole modem civilised world — the worship of God.
All ancient religion, as' distinguished from the primitive,
laboured under the total inability of even conceiving
the idea of the worshi/p of God. It split and went to
pieces upon that rock ; acknowledging in a speculative
sense one God, but not applying worship to Him. The
local, the limited, the finite, was as such an object of
worship ; the Infinite as such was not : the one was
personal, the other impersonal ; man stood in re
lation to the one, he could not place himself in
relation to the other. We discover in the Patriarch
whom God extricated from the self-imposed dilemma
^ Josh. xxiv. 14.

Abraham. 3
of all ancient religion, and who was enabled to cast off
the yoke of custom and embrace new truth, the
strength of a true rational nature, as well as the
devotion of a reformer of religious worship. A Divine
revelation does not dispense with a certain character
and certain qualities of mind in the person who is the
instrument of it. A man who throws off the chains of
authority and association must be a man of extra
ordinary independence of mind, and strength of mind,
although he does so in obedience to a Divine revelation;
because no miracle, no sign or wonder which accom
panies a revelation, can by its simple stroke force human
nature from the innate hold of custom, and the ad
hesion to, and fear of, established opinion ; can enable
it to confront the frowns of men, and take up truth
opposed to general prejudice, except there is in the
man himself, who is the recipient of the revelation, a
certain strength of mind and independence which
concurs with the Divine intention. It is the Divine
method and law that man should co-operate with God ;
and that God should act by means of men who are fit
ting instruments ; and this law implies that those who
are God's instruments possess real character of their own
ia correspondence with their mission. The mission to
set up or propagate new truth required in Abraham's
day, in the. natural character of him who had to
execute it, something of the nature of what we call a
religious reformer in modern times. The recipient of
a new revelation must have self-reliance, otherwise
he will not believe that he has received it ; he will
not be sure of it against the force of current opinions,

4 Abraham.
and men teUing him on every side that he is mis
taken. Upon this principle then, that a Divine mission
requires the proper man, we discern in Abraham the
type which in modern language we call that of the
man of thought, upon whom some deep truth has
fastened with irresistible power, and whose mind
dwells and feeds upon the conviction of it. The
truth in the case of Abraham was the conception of
one God. And we may observe this great thought
was accompanied in his mind, as it has been in aU
minds which have been profoundly convinced of it,
by another, which naturally attaches to, it. We may
recognise in Abraham's colloquy with God over the
impending fate of Sodom, something like the appear
ance of that great question which has always been
connected with the doctrine of the Unity of God —
the question of the Divine justice. The doctrine of
the Unity of God raises the question of His justice
for this reason, that-^one God, who is both good
and omnipotent, being assumed — we immediately
think. Why should He who is omnipotent permit
that which He who is in His own nature supremely
good, cannot desire, that is evil? The thought, it
is true, does not come out in any regular or full form
in this mysterious colloquy ; and yet it hovers over
it; there are hints and forecastings of this great
question, which is destined to trouble the human
intellect, and to try faith, and to absorb meditation,
as long as the world lasts. A shadow passes over,
the air stirs sKghtly, and there is just that fragment

Abraham. 5
of thought and questioning, which would be in place
as the first dawn of a great controversy. " That be
far from thee," " that the righteous should be as the
wicked : " " shall not the Judge of aU the earth do
right ? " ^ The Book of Job has been assigned a much
later date than the received one, by some, on the
ground that the deep vein of thought and sentiment
in it, the perception of the difficulty relating to the
Divine justice, belongs to a later, more philosophical
age of mankind than that primitive one, — to an age of
speculation. But it must be considered that this
question arises immediately upon the adoption of the
belief in one Supreme Being : so that, as soon as ever
the belief in the unity of God is obtained, the
question of His justice arises with it. We need not,
therefore, on this sole account alter the date of the
Book of Job, when even in the rudiments of thought
which rise up in the colloquy over Sodom, we may
see the beginnings of that expression of the deep
sentiment of justice which the Book of Job gives
with such fulness; and may recognise the germ of
that question which still continues to perplex the
human mind, and to agitate the atmosphere of
human poetry and philosophy.
2. Abraham comes before us as a person who
lives in the future, whose mind is cast forward,
beyond the immediate foreground of his own day,
upon a very remote epoch in the history of the world,
and fixed upon a remarkable event in the most distant
horizon of time, the nature of which is vague and
1 Gen. xviii. 25.

6 Abraham,.
dimly known to him, but which is charged with
momentous consequences, involving a change in the
whole state of the world. The revelation is made to
him, — "In thee shall all families of the earth be
blessed ; " he looks onward perpetually to the accom
plishment of this prediction. He has the idea in his
mind of the world's progress, of a movement in the
present order of things towards some great end and
consummation. This is a remarkable state of mind.
Ordinary men do not live in the future, and have
very little idea that things wiU ever be different
from what they are in their own day. The actual
state of the world around them is the type of all
existence in their eyes, and they cannot conceive
another mould or form of .things, or even imagine
that there ever can be another; they are crea
tures of present time, nor do they ever entertain
distinctly the idea of the future existence of the
world at all. It is therefore a fact to arrest us, even
if this was all we had — a man in a primitive age of
the world, while he is standing upon the very threshold
of time, having distinctly before his eyes the future
existence of the world, and an improved condition of
it. In the mind of Abraham, though the nature of
the future is dim, the fact itself of a great future in
store for the world is a clear conception ; he does not
regard things as stationary, as always going to be
what they are, but as in a state of progress ; he has
the vision of a great change before him which is
as yet in the extreme distance, but which, when it
does come, will be a conspicuous benefit to the human

Abraham. 7
race, a blessing in which all the families of the earth
wiU share.
This was a conception as foreign to an ordinary
mind of Abraham's day, as it would be to such a mind
now. Because his future is to us a known past, we
might be apt to imagine that the conception would
come as a matter of course ; and that people of that
, early age of the world knew by an instinct that it
was an early age, and the predecessor of a later one.
But there was just as much difficulty in realising a
future of the world then, as there is now. The present
of that day made the same impression upon the genera
tion of that day, that to-day's present does upon men
of to-day ; it was as much a boundary of the world's
horizon, and stood as much upon the very edge of
time, as to-day stands. We observe therefore some
thing very extraordinary, and something entirely
opposed to the common habit of the human mind, in
the Patriarch Abraham's fixed look into futurity,
directed towards an indefinitely distant era of the
world. Our Lord Himself has singled out this
prophetic look of Abraham as something unex
ampled in clearness, certainty, and fax-reaching extent.
" Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day ; and he
saw it, and was glad." ^ This was a revelation made to
him indeed ; but he is equal to the revelation, he em
braces it and concurs in his whole power of mind with it.
This is the first thing indeed we observe in con
nection with the subject of early prophecy. It is the
preliminary and general condition of mind in the pro-
1 John viii. 56.

8 Abraham.
phetical person which arrests us ; — that he ha^ the
future before him, that he thinks of the world's future,
and realises that it has a future, and brings home to
himself the unrolling powers of time. This fastening
of the mind upon the future, to whatever extent and
in whatever persons it existed in those very early ages
of the world to which the dawn of prophecy belongs, is
a most striking and remarkable feature of those ages ;
and we know that it existed even under paganism.
Upon the shores of the Mediterranean, in the
region where the great Eoman poet meditated and
himself listened to the prophetical strain, stands the
traditional cave of the Cumaean Sibyl, — ^the repre
sentative of ancient prophecy, as it existed and held
its ground, not under the Judaic dispensation, but
parallel with it, and mounting to a common source.
It is difficult to speak of the Sibylline verses, corrupted
as they were soon after the Christian era, so that the
mass of the collection is obviously and glaringly
spurious. There is a primitive residuum however, the
style of which reveals a native source ; and the simple
prediction for which Virgil testifies is enough to show
the mind of the prophetess, not only with respect to the
subject of prophecy, but with respect to that general
grasp of the fact of a world's future, and that look
that travels forward and ranges over the distant
realms of time, which I have just mentioned. There
is the Sibyl upon her watch-tower, with her eye
carried onward to a distant horizon, which she but
dimly descries, but which is marked to her prophetic
eye with great events. But what an extraordinary

Abraham. 9
state of mind is this to belong to any human being in
the earliest and most primeval era of paganism I That
any man or woman should take the trouble then to
think of what would happen to the world a thousand
years off ! Were there not plenty of important things
to attend to then, without going into the future ?
Was there not the routine of nature and the custom
of society ? And did not every year and every day
bring its present life and its pressing business, its im
mediate interests, then as now? The sun rose and
set, the seasons alternated; men ploughed in the
spring and gathered in the autumn, and social life ran
its round, and kings and states carried on their affairs,
and wars and festivals, famine and plenty, grief and
joy, made up the chequered life of man, the vicissi
tudes of which seemed quite enough to occupy him.
Why should one person go beyond this present scene,
leap over generations, and think of the world as it
would be after ages had passed away ? What an iso
lated eccentric journey for thought I What a dream
to take up and absorb the mind ! How strange an
image it presents to us — yet this is the aspect in which
the Sibyl comes before us. In the crowded and
familiar scene of a then living and bustling paganism,
she is the devotee to the world's hereafter ; consecrated
to that idea and prospect, she gazes upon the last shore
of time ; and her sacred brow is lifted up above the
throng of common objects and concerns, that her eye
may rest upon a mysterious distance and an unknown
page of the future history of mankind ! It is strange,
amid the scattered fragments which constituted human

IO Abraham.
society then, to see even the recognition by one person's
mind of a common humanity — a humanity that had a
career to run and an end to fulfil ; to see the great
problem and riddle of man's existence acknowledged,
and a solution expected, as the curtain which hung
over the Divine scheme folded up and disclosed
the final upshot of it. Amid the idolatry and cor
ruptions of paganism, the reverence that was felt for
the Sibyl is a curious and beautiful remnant of the
early piety of the world, for which we are hardly pre
pared, and which comes across us with a surprise
which perplexes us. Is this really paganism that is
speaking ? It cannot be. It is early prophecy which
is stUl holding its ground on human nature, and in
popular thought, as a sentiment ; obtaining from
paganism a sacred rank for the Sibyl — a rank that
has been continued by the Church. The Church has in
corporated the holy prophetess of paganism in the root
of the Christian body, and given her a place in the
prophetical order by the side of the patriarchs and pro
phets of old. She joins in the holy procession, which
begins with Adam, Seth, and Enoch, and ends with
the last Christian saint, martyr, and confessor : she is
acknowledged in the Church's hymns ; and the coun
tenance which the painter has given her, symbolical
of her solemn gift, appears in the Christian gallery,
window, and pictured roof.
But the prophetic element in human nature has its
development also on the physical side. The modem
world's conception of its own future only pictures
indeed the continuation of a present movement, and

Abraham. ii
does not cross the border of mystery ; yet it is an
instance of the prophetic vein in human nature. To
turn to Bacon's vision of the coming day : — the Novum
Organum awakens us like a knock at the door ; it
is the first bell that rings and gathers the whole peal,
it is from first to last an announcement. It is coming,
the great manifestation of nature ; it is not come yet,
but it will be here soon ; it has been long coming,
and we have waited for it, now it is all but come.
" All the systems of philosophy hitherto have been
only so many plays, only creations of fictitious and
iinaginajy worlds ;" there have been "long periods of
ages," and only some few observations. Intellect has
not forwarded but impeded discovery, and " every
thing has been abandoned to the mists of tradition,
the whirl and confusion of argument, or the waves and
mazes of chance." One man has invoked his own
spirit, another has called in logic ; " the true path has
not only been deserted but intercepted and blocked
up, and experience has not only been neglected but
rejected with disgust." ..." We cannot, therefore.
wonder that no magnificent discoveries worthy of
mankind have been brought to light, while men are
satisfied and delighted with such scanty and puerile
tasks. "^
All is vague and arbitrary, all is groping in the
dark ; the human mind is always pressing forward in
one direction, but it is unfit for transition. But there
is going to be something, and it is this awakening
and unfolding of a fresh moming which is the herald's
* Novum Organum, Book I.

1 2 Abraham.
call in the Novum Organum. There is the sensation of
beiiig just on the borders of a great disclosure, while
as yet aU at this moment sleeps ; of a new reign, of a
world just going to break forth into life. This consti
tutes the characteristic note, the prophetic current, of
the Novum Organum ; we are shut out just at -present,
nothing is seen ; but it is all announcement, all expecta
tion, aU the stir of something coming, all the sound of
trumpets, all the preparation for an era, all the break
ing of a day. Bacon is seen in his principal aspect
as a prophet, he lives just on the edge of an age of
marvels, close upon it, stUl not in it, but foreseeing
it ; he Hves in a future ; the precursor is gone forward
out of his own age. He lives not amidst particulars,
but only in a vision of general discovery. All wiU have
the suddenness, the brightness, the inexplicableness
of magic, though he foretells it and knows it is coming.
Bacon insists upon the chance incident to discovery,
how completely it wiU baulk aU people who think
they have the road to it, who go upon premisses,
and see their way to conclusions. " Had any one
meditated on balistic machines and battering-rams as
they were used by the ancients, whatever appUcation
he might have exerted, and though he might have con
sumed a whole life in the pursuit, yet would he never
have hit upon the invention of flaming engines acting
by means of gunpowder ; nor would any person who
had made woollen manufactures and cotton the subject
of his observation and reflection have ever discovered
thereby the nature of the silkworm or of silk."^ ... "If
^ Novum Organum, Book IL

Abraham. 13
before the discovery of the compass any one had said
that an instrument had been invented by which the
quarters and points in the heavens could be exactly
taken and distinguished ; men would have entered into
disquisitions on the refinement of astronomical instru
ments, . . . but that a mere mineral or metaUic
substance should yet in its motion agree with that
of such bodies would have appeared absolutely in
credible." ^
Thus do the great discoveries fiash forth Uke magic
in Bacon's future, not as they were concerned with
causes at aU — wUd conceptions, offsprings of chance,
born amid the incongruous and heterogeneous. A man
cannot set about making them ; each " comes not by
any gradual improvement and extension of the arts,
but merely by chance."^ How then does Bacon
prophesy " a vast mass of inventions," an age of dis
coveries, an " instauration," a fulfilment of hopes, the
new light of axioms, the advancement of the sciences,
the interpretation of Nature, and the reign of man ?
How does he prophesy a harvest of discoveries and a
manifestation of Nature ? Beeause he saw that though
each discovery by itself may be a chance, when a great
many men are attending to one subject, and people
are set upon nature as an object of attention, the
chances of discovery in connection with this subject
must increase, and there must be a multiplication of
this possibUity. He saw that the investigation of
Nature was rising in men's minds ; that men were
experimenting, and were beginning to attend to facts
^ Novum Orgarium, Book I. 2 Book .IL

14 Abraham.
and real physical objects. Hence there arose that
conclusion which constituted his prophecy. His mind
was in acute sympathy with the growing mind of the
world, his pulse moved with the growing beat of
human thought and curiosity, though then but faint :
he saw the immense difference in the mode of studying
natural science which was inaugurated by this rising
taste for facts, this putting aside of the idols of the
human mind for the ideas of the Divine mind ; that
is to say, " certain idle fictions of the imagination for
the real stamp and impression of created objects, as
they are found in nature."^ He saw a mere " handful
of phenomena collected into a natural history." But
foreseeing this, he foresaw a world of discovery ; for
" if we had but any one who could a<itually a'nswer
our interrogations of nature, the invention of all
causes and sciences would be the labour of but a few
years." ^ And even an approximation to this would be
a beginning. The quickness with which Bacon caught
up a hint thus made itself a prophecy. He felt himseU
just on the borders of a new world, in the midst of a
stir of mind which came before an age of marvels, and
in the Novum Organum he Uves in this new world, in
the era of the great manifestation. He lives a pro
phetic life, scattering oracles and pregnant sayings,
and welcoming the light of the approaching day.
But to go back. There is a wonderful life and
spirit, spring and joyousness, in early prophecy
which immediately strikes us ; as weU as a largeness
of scope and a ubiquity in the tongue of prophecy
^ Nowm Organum, Book I. 2 jjj-^

Abraha^m. 15
itself. In a sense the whole earth prophesies ; the
fount of prophecy comes up to the surface, there, here,
and everywhere, where one least expects ; it does not
go in one fixed channel and course, but rises up in
different openings and clefts which it makes for itself
all the world over. It has a free and Uvely action,
and wide play. One common character pervades the
various announcements of early prophecy, whether
they meet us in the formal and regular channel of
the family of Abraham, or over the wide regions
of paganism, in east or west; and that is the dis
closure of a great state of happiness and a blessing
to come upon this present earth, under a personal
restorer and regenerator of God's own choosing. Of
the Patriarchal prophecy and of the Sibylline prophecy
it is alike characteristic, that the blessing or the
state of restoration which is predicted belongs to
this earth, and that this earth is the appointed scene
of it. The fundam,ental Jewish prophecy which runs
through Scripture and comes down from Abraham to
Isaiah has respect to this earth as the locality of it.
The language is, "all nations," "the earth/' "the
land," " the isles," " the mountains." " The earth shall
be full of the knowledge of the Lord ;" " they shall
inherit the land for ever;" "they shaU not hurt nor
destroy in aU my holy mountain." The prophetic
scene of a regenerated, a purified, and a happy earth,
is also the vision of the Sibyl : —
Kai TOTE 8' e^eyepet PaxriX^ffCov ets ai5i/as
IlavTas Iir' avOpumovs, ayiov vo/miv ottitot' cScoKey
E'utreySeo-t, TOts iraa-iv -VTricrx^TO yaiav dvoi^eiv,
Kat KOtTjiOV, p-aKapw/ re iruAas, /cat )(ap[ji.aTa Troivra,

1 6 Abraham.
Kat vow a,66,va.Tov, aiwviov e-u(j)pocr6vrjv re.
Hdcrrjs 8' eK yatijs Xi/3avov koi SQpa jrpos oikods
Oitrova-L pieyaXoio Oeov.^
The form and mould of the prediction — the beatifica
tion of this earth, as distinct from an invisible world
of happiness — singularly fits in with the simpUcity
and primitive mind of early prophecy : with that first
uprising of the prophetical spirit in the heart of man,
in the infancy and newness of God's gift to man,
when he could not yet distinguish the visible world
from the invisible. The look forward to a happy
earth, where aU would be innocence and peace, to
anotlier paradise and golden age, was the bright antici
pation of chUdhood, when prophecy, itself true and
sent by God, was yet accommodated to the vivid
sympathies of the world's infancy with what was
tangible or visible. It was to that age a picture of
bUss, which no purely spiritual world could be, and
which imparted a sense of delight and vivid hope.
But though a great and fundamental prophecy
mounts up to one common source, and belongs aUke
to Jewish and Pagan dispensations, the difference is
enormous in the way m which prophecy is treated,!
and in the account to which it is turned, in the
regular channel, and m the irregular. Upon the
wUd and uncultivated pagan ground prophecy re
ceived no systematic attention, and had no regular
1 Sibyll. iii. 766. « And then shall He raise up an eternal king
dom over aU men, when He has given a holy law to the pious, to all
of whom He promised to open the earth and the world, and the gates
of the blessed, and aU joys, and immortal inteUigence and etemal
pleasure. And from every land shaU they bring gifts and frankincense
to the palace of the mighty God."

Abraham. 17
home, no fitting receptacle in which to lodge. The
tradition of the Sibyl points indeed to the existence
of prophetic minds in the pagan world, which had in
dim vision before them some great future change in
the order of things here ; but nothing came of this
prophetic gleam; it founded nothing, it erected no
institutions, no framework, no body, no Church;
it passed away and wandered into space, and
only retumed in desultory , and dreamy sounds
which interested but did not rouse the mind. Pro
phecy was a sweet but broken strain, whose notes
floated upon the air, only to be scattered immediately
by some rough wind; and a transient and fitful
music only entranced the ear, to die away in feeble
cadences and fragments. Prophecy was Uke one of
those thoughts which just come into the mind and
vanish; and we cannot catch it again, though we
seem to be just upon the track of it, and the shadow
hovers about us. Or it was like some early memory
or association, which has visited us for a moment, and
has gone away instantly and cannot be recaUed.
The man who saw his natural face in a glass, and
went away and forgot what manner of man he was,
was haunted indeed by the vague image of somebody
who had been reflected in the mirror; but had not
got that clear Ukeness of himself which could make
him know himself; could warn, caution, instruct, and
guard. Prophecy thus under paganism never grew
into a practical and directing power; and even the
great Eoman poet, captivated as he was by its ancient
utterance, and the beauty of its promise, yet could do

1 8 Abraham,
no more with it than convert it into a court compU-
ment, and connect its romantic associations with the ,
prospects of the new-born heir of the Pollios. But
as soon as prophecy found a receptacle in the chosen
race, it grew strong, it became an architect and
builder, it raised institutions, it enacted ordinances.
In Abraham it founded a family, in Moses it framed
a law, in David it erected a kingdom. The Jewish
people from the first gave prophecy a fixed home, and
the nation became the regular and guarded deposi
tory for the sacred gift. The Jewish Church was the
fort of prophecy, maintaining and keeping up the
inspired expectation, protecting it from outside blasts,
and surrounding it with institutions and schools ; so
that, preserved as a directing influence among them, it
prepared a practical reception for the Messiah ; and
founded that body of thought in the nation which
welcomed Him who fulfiUed the promise when He
came, and in that welcome founded the Christian
Church. Prophecy had thus the most striking prac
tical result, and proved itself an instrument of real
efficiency and power.
In Abraham himself we see the foundation of that
strong external structure, — that law, that system, and
that discipline, — ^which was to act as the depository of
the prophetic promise ; we see it m the fact that he
founded a famUy, and at the same time bound that
famUy by mles, precepts, and regulations which
enabled it to preserve and hand down the true faith.
It is worth observing that Scripture does not only
assign to Abraham the office of a Patriarch or pro-

Abraham. 19
genitor of a famUy, but attributes to him remarkable
qualifications for establishing a reUgion and securing
its continuance in that famUy. It gives him a cha
racter somewhat akin to that of an ancient lawgiver,
representing him as laying down rules and imparting
a particular mould and type to his famUy, providing
for its future instruction and worship, and treating it
not merely as a famUy but as an institution; just as
the old legislator laid down a plan, a method, and a
code for the new State. " Shall I hide from Abraham
that thing which I do; seeing that Abraham shall
surely become a great and mighty nation ? " " For I
know him that he will command his children and his
household after him, and they shall keep the way of
the Lord to do justice and judgment, that the Lord
may bring upon Abraham that which He hath spoken
of him."^ We ought not, certainly, to strain or exag
gerate the sense of any passage in Scripture; and yet,
when we consider how much is often contained in a
short compass in Scripture, and in how simple a way
Scripture expresses very important events and trans
actions, it hardly appears too bold to say that this
text is a description of more thad. the head of a family —
that it represents the founder of a religious community,
whose future adherence to the true faith he was
anxious to secure by proper regulations.
And here we have the pecuUar and special cha
racteristic which distinguishes Abraham as a beUever,
from other beUevers in the true God who appear to
have existed then in the world. Abraham was not,
1 Gen. xviii. 17, 18, 19,

20 Abraham.
it would appear, so absolutely soUtary in his creed in
the world at that time, as that there were UteraUy
none beside himself and his family who held the same
beUef in one supreme God. One such beUever we are
told of, and him a person of exalted station, one ofthe
kings of the very country in which Abraham sojourned
— Melchizedek, king of Salem and " priest of the most
high God," who received tithes from Abraham, and
who blessed Abraham and said, " Blessed be Abram
of the most high God, possessor of he&ven and earth."^
In this priestly office and this blessing is contained
undoubtedly a creed, and the true creed, and Melchi
zedek is throughout adopted by Scripture as a true
beUever. And if he was, his very office would indicate
that there were others beside himself who beUeved in
the same supreme God, implying as it does an altar,
sacrifice, and public worship. And if here, then else
where, beUevers in the true God may have existed in
the world, and perhaps each of them may have had his
own group around him. Such, perhaps, in a later age,
was the situation of Jethro; and even, great as was his
fall from this eminence, such may have been the
position of the prophet Balaam. And in an earUer
age this scattering of true beUef amid the religious
corruption of the world was the more probable, from
the very circumstance that that corruption had not
then had such time to grow and consoUdate itself.
There were, therefore, probably contemporary with
Abraham, holy men in different parts, who held the
same beUef, and were more or less divided from the
* Gen. xiv. 18, 19,

Abraham. 2 1
surrounding mass. But these men, if there were such,
would not appear to have possessed the characterktics
which marked the great Patriarch, and fitted.-'him to
be so singular and special an instrument in the
hands of God for establishing the tme faith in the
world. Excepting from remark the mysterious per
sonage whose sudden appearance upon the stage of
sacred history has created such perplexity and awe,
and whose typical aspect so predominates over his
historical ; — excepting him, and speaking of these
holders of the true belief as a class, one would suppose
that they were good and holy men doubtless^ but that
they were content to beUeve what was true themselves,
without much concern for the world at large, or for
the future, and without providing for the security and
estabhshment of the truth. -They were men probably
who had no thought beyond their own day, who Uved
in amity with surrounding idolatry though differing
from it, made no great protest, and stood upon an
ordinary neighbourly footing with the world. Such
quiet good men are respected, but they do not root the
truth in the world ; what they beUeve is apt to die
away with them^ and indeed they expect it do so; they
have no great confidence in the power of tmth, they
assume that error is the normal condition of mankind,
and think it vain to stmggle with it, they leave men
alone, and are satisfied with saving their own souls.
Such men have their own place and use, and do their
own work in their day, but they are not made to be
instmments in the hands of God for instituting a new
dispensation and founding a church. Abraham was

2 2 Abraham.
cast in a different mould. He has the future of the
world before his mind; he looks upon " aU the nations
of the earth " in connection with the true faith; which
he contemplates as going to take deep root, to spread,
and to gain the allegiance of mankind ; for the blessing
which they are to receive through him must involve
their reception of his helief and hope.
Such is the man whom the Bible puts before us in
Abraham. The Patriarch appears in the page of Scrip
ture as — although invested with the warUke pomp
and state of a chieftain of that age — a soUtary; a
solitary in his creed ; a solitary in the extreme and
dim remoteness of the scene and object upon which his
mind rests. As a believer he has cast off the popular
religion and is a witness against it ; as a prince he is
a wanderer without aUiances in a strange land ; and
his only compensation is that he is enabled to Uve in
thought out of the present scene and circumstances,
and to repose upon futurity. We are brought here
for the first time in contact with the majesty, the
strength, and the splendour of prophecy in the re
ligion of the chosen race. There is nothing in the
history of the character, the sentiment, the aspirations
of nations, which is equal to, which can for a moment
be compared with, this mighty impulse and current
of faith in the Jewish community. Other nations had
their prophetic traditions, their own oracular voices
bome along the air, which pointed the way to con
quest and empire; but the objects to which these
national vaticinations looked were petty and local, or
at any rate the vulgar prizes of territorial ambitions :

Abraham. 23
Jewish prophecy had a totaUy different goal. What
have we in any heathen nation's early forecast of
victory and success at aU equal in force, in boldness,
in grandeur of scope, to that look into futurity given
to one, who, standing upon the earth, in the very
moming of time, before history had begun, and when
as yet no people of Israel, no famUy of Israel, no
seed of Israel, were in existence, aged and chUd-
less, grasped the whole world as his inheritance, and
saw aU the earth engrafted upon his own stock by
conversion to his own faith ? What Eoman antici
pation can compare not only in subUmity but even in
extent and largeness with this ? Yet there is the
prophecy before us, supported by the whole his
tory and tradition of a nation. Nor could it be
otherwise than gratuitous for even a sceptic, how
ever he may reject the inspiration, to deny that
this prophecy existed, that it was of the nature here
described, and that it dates from this primitive era.
Abraham in that early dawn of history, with poly
theism and idolatry aU around him, saw his own creed
triumphant in the world ; he predicted its triumph,
and the prediction has as a matter of fact come true.
It is triumphant. The creed of Abraham has become
the creed of the civUised world. The Patriarch's creed
has been victorious over the idolatry of the human
race, and grown from a deposit in the breast of one
man into a universal religion. It is this force which
is characteristic of Jewish prophecy ; there may be
true prophecy elsewhere in the world, but it is
weak, it is broken, and its utterance dies away upon

24 Abraham.
the ear, and is scattered to the winds ; in the Jewish
channel it is strong, compact, and consistent ; it has
a fixed and confident hold upon the future, a grasp of
forecast, and a practical evergazing assurance ; it pro
vided from the first for its own transmission, created
laws and institutions, and made a prophetical nation.
The question may be asked, Why did not Abraham
preach the true faith, and convert the nations around
him ? but the tmth is that the time had not come for
that form of apostleship. The missionary belongs
essentiaUy to a body of believers, out of which he is
sent, and upon which he rests as his support and stay
in the background, throughout his labours, however
far they carry him from home; as a general rests
upon his base of operations in war. But the body
of the faithful, or the Church, had not been formed
in the Patriarchal age, and the formation of it took
many ages. Abraham belonged to no Church outside
of himself ; he was himself the Church, which at that
stage of the Divine dispensation resided in an indi
vidual and a soUtary. In the order of Providence the
Patriarch precedes the Apostle. The mode of prosely
tising proper to a beginning of things is the founda
tion of a nation : the nation once made is a church,
and acts upon the world by becoming the background
of individual exertions. The Apostle was backed by
" the true Israel," but the Patriarch himself did not
belong to a body, but was himself the germ of that
body. The early and Patriarchal thus singularly con
trasts with the later and Evangelical form of apostleship.
The evangelical Apostle, or disseminator of the trae

Abraham. 25
faith in the world, is a missionary and preacher : the
Patriarch had that office also to fulfil to the faith, but
he fulfiUed it by founding a famUy and a law : and
that which the later Apostle proclaimed by word of
mouth to aU the world, he handed down to a line of
posterity. In being the progenitor of a nation, he
was also the transmitter of a creed. The descent of
blood is the descent of faith too : father teaching son,
and each succeeding generation imbibing the truth
from its predecessor. The Patriarch then, as the fore
father of a great nation, was also the apostle of that
nation. His greatness was not that of an ancestor
only, glorying in his posterity, but also that of a
teacher impressing his own type upon a school.
With the strong foresight of a great future for the
world, we note in the Patriarch the foresight too of
his own posthumous greatness. A chieftain only of an
average station, and barely admitted to a level with
the petty monarchs around him, he has only to
throw his eye forward into time, and he sees himself
in his tme rank and position. He sees a representa
tion and impersonation of himself in a mighty nation
of which he is the founder ; he is prospectively the
head of this nation ; it looks back to him through aU
ages as the man to whom it first owes its existence,
the original architect of the fabric, the root of the
magnificent tree which spreads its branches so wide.
He Uves in this nation, he reigns in its continuance
and growth, and its greatness is his greatness. He
may not raise his head high at present then, and the
kings of the country may hold themselves above him ;

26 Abraham.
but he knows that his day wUl come, and that he
leaves behind him a seed of power which will fiU the
earth, and cast aU contemporary mle into the shade.
" A father of many nations have I made thee, — and
kings shaU come out of thee." Nor wiU this nation
be a single power only; it will be the nucleus in
some sense of an universal power, and "all the
famUies of the earth " wUl gather around it. He
sees predestined for him, and inscribed on the roU of
Providence, a, name which wiU UteraUy be everlasting
and universal. Before the great Patriarch in his soli
tary wanderings, — a sojourner and a pUgrim, moving
his tents from place to place in a strange land, —
a boundless prospect arose, which we cannot reduce
to any geographical measurement. It is true, the
known world of that day was a smaU one compared
with ours ; the populated earth of the Patriarch had
a circumference of cloud and darkness, and was
bounded by a terra incognita where no traveUer's,
foot had ever trod ; but the magnitude of an idea in
the mind of man must not be measured by the
material extent and number of that which raises it.
How petty in actual geographical size were the States
of ancient Greece; yet the wars of those States
excited in the Greek aU the sense of grandeur and of
triumph which the most gigantic European contest
has done m modem nations; and the breast of an
Athenian or Spartan statesman or soldier sweUed with
as strong an emotion when a victory was gained in a
battle where neither of the armies equaUed a modern
regiment, as a modern feels when one half of Europe

Abraham. 27
conquers the other in the field. So Uttle can we tie the
force and largeness of ideas in the human mind, to
the actual proportions of the material facts which
serve as the occasion of them. This mountain which
towers to heaven before our eyes does not produce the
sense of height and grandeur which impresses us, in
exact proportion to the number of perpendicular feet ;
the imagination of the spectator gives it height, as
sure as there is enough material altitude to stimulate
it ; and no member of the Alpine range or the chain
of the Andes could look higher than it does.
There never was a day since there were nations
upon the earth, when " all the nations of the earth "
did not present an overwhelming image to the human
mind. That " aU " was a vast inconceivable " aU ; " it
, was that which no man coxild describe or calciilate ;
it was countless number, Umitless space. The whole
— the world was an infinity; no thought could
embrace the fact or do more than put a symbol or
counter for it. " Look now toward heaven, and teU
the stars, if thou be able to number them : and He
said unto him. So shaU thy seed be." ^ The Patriarch
saw that his work would Uve — ^the work he had done,
in the world. So, to take another kind of work of a
Ufe, has a great poet prophesied the immortality of
his work.
But though a great posthumous name is certainly ap
pealed to in the Divine communications to the Patriarch,
and though it is certainly intended that that grand pro
spect should nerve bim to his work — " I wUl make
> Gen. XV. 5.

28 Abraham.
thy name great " — this is still a motive which suits an
earUer dispensation better than a later one. The
future actual existence of himself, where it is defi
nitely and distinctly grasped, must throw into the
shade the existence of his name. His name is not
himself ; his name is only a reflection thrown off from
himself. Himself, and what happens to himself, must
be the important consideration to himself. His real
immortality lies in the perpetuity of himself, not in
that of his name, which cannot do him the sUghtest
good where he does not exist, ¦if he wiU not then
exist. The question what is to become of the shadow
of himself left in this world must pale in interest,
in proportion as his own real future existence is
embraced. The motive of a posthumous reputation,
then, is not a Gospel motive, because the Gospel
is the tidings of real immortality, and that is its
special appeal to man ; whereas the desire for posthu
mous fame has nothing to do with a real immo3>
tality. A man who has no notion but that his
existence totaUy ends at death, can stUl derive
pleasure from the anticipation of his fame after-
death; and can enjoy now the foresight of a fact,
which fact itself he will not exist then to enjoy, be
cause that future fact is a proof of present success.
It is indeed simply blind confusion, an hallucination
of the reason, to mix up these two absolutely distinct
desires; to identify the immortaUty of a name with
the immortality of a person ; yet a debasing stupor
and disorder of the inteUect does prevaU in this
respect. Men, under the notion of a name, throw

Abraham. 29
forward a false earthly existence beyond the grave,
which satisfles them ; they imagine themselves now
enjoying this posthumous name then when it is
posthumous ; or, in other words, conceive themselves
as dead and alive at the same time. Cannot reason
break this iron yoke of Ulusion ? She can if she is
asked to do so, but they do not ask her, and would
rather their sleep was not broken or their mist dispelled.
But though the desire for posthumous fame is not
a motive of Gospel source, it is one of those motives of
nature which the Gospel does not forbid in its proper
place. The Gospel is not at war with a natural instinct
of the heart : it only condemns a gross misconception
about posthumous greatness — the confounding it with a
real future Ufe — ^the selfish and unnatural dream of men
who grasp at it as if they were reaUy going to enjoy
it, and to enjoy it when it is posthumous.^ But let
this bUnd confusion about it be cleared, and let the
thing stand for what it is and nothing more ; and
Christianity does not forbid a satisfaction being de
rived from the anticipation of it. The accompUsher
of a great work has a legitimate pleasure in that work,
in himself being the doer of it, and in the knowledge
of that circumstance by others. And why should not
1 " Sed nescio quomodo, animus erigena se, posteritatem semper ita
prospiciebat, quasi, cum excessisset e vita, tum denique vioturus esset."
— Cicero, De Seneetute, xxiii. 82.
" Sed cum illi essent in civitate terrena, quibus propositus erat
omnium pro ilia offlciorum finis, incolumitas ejus, et regnum non in caelo
sed in terra ; non in vita eeterna, sed in decessione morientium et suo-
cessione moriturorum : quid aliud amarent quam gloriam, qua volebant
etiam post mortem tanquam vivere in ore laudantium 1 " — Aug. De Givit.
Dei, lib. v. 1 4.

30 Abraham.
posterity be among those others ? But a religious man,
if he foresees this posthumous name, sees also a chasm
which separates this naihe from himself, and with
draws it from him as a selfish prize. A shadow rests
upon it whieh precludes vulgar pride and seK-con-
gratulation. The Patriarch saw himself emerge out of
a whole contemporary world after death ; but such an
ascent, which stands in oontro^t with present depres
sion, is, although an elevating and inspiriting reflec
tion, a mortifying and chastening one as weU; the
good is not grasped, is not fastened on, is not enjoyed
tangibly; it is a vision, a prophecy, an iminaterial
form of greatness, the shadow of a substance which
has never been possessed, the symbol of a deprivation,
and a memento of mortaUty.

LECTURE IL
THE SACRIFICE OF ISAAC.
TTT'HEN objections are raised against various actions
' ^ and courses of action represented as done and
carried on by Divine command in the Old Testament,
which involved a summary mode of dealing with
human life, the answer is made, that God is the Lord
of Ufe, the right to which ceases as soon as evidence
exists of a Divine command to deprive men of it. " If
it were commanded," says Butler, " to cultivate the
principles, and act from the spirit of tieachery, in
gratitude, cruelty ; the command would not alter the
nature of the case, or the action, in any of these in
stances. But it is quite otherwise in precepts which
require only the doing an extemal action; for instance,
taking away the property or life of another. For
men have no right to either Ufe or property but
what arises solely from the grant of God. When this
grant is revoked, they cease to have any right at all
in either : and when this revocation is made known,
as surely it is possible it may be, it must cease to
be unjust to deprive them of either."^
This defence then is undoubtedly, as a general and
abstract statement, true and complete ; nor is there
1 Aiialogy, part ii. chap. ui.

32 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
anything wanting to it, or that need be added to it, as
an abstract position. It is unquestionable that if a
command of God to kUl even an innocent person is
made known to us, we have not only the right, but
are under the strictest moral obUgation to kiU that
person. But though a tme and perfect defence in the
abstract, it leaves out one important point which ought
to be supplied before the general defensive statement
is appUed to a particular case — ^the point, viz., how
the Divine command to perform such an action is
made known to the person to whom it is asserted
in Scripture to be made known. That is a question
which it is essential to answer before the individual can
be pronounced to have been justified in performing the
act. Undoubtedly the right of man to Uve ceases as
soon as ever evidence arises of a Divine command
to deprive him of it; but when does such evidence
arise ?
The answer then which is given to this question is
that the evidence arose by means of a miraculous mani
festation through which the WUl of God was declared,
that these actions should be done. And this is a true
and correct answer. But it stiU has to be accounted
for, how a miracle at that day was the evidence which
it was of such a Divine command. Supposing at the
present day, aiid under the present dispensation, a
miracle were wrought in evidence of an aUeged com
mand of God to any man to kUl an innocent son,
would such a miracle be regarded as sufficient evidence
of such a command? It cannot with any truth be
asserted that it would. The Christian Church would

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 33
obviously condemn the act, and would refuse to
pronounce a miracle to be sufficient justification of it.
The question of the rightness or wrongness of this
class of actions belongs indeed to the great religious
question of the warranting power of miracles, and the
conditions of miraculous evidence.
When we go then to the Scripture doctrine of
miracles and of the evidence rising from miracles, we
find, in the first place, that the general rule laid down
is, that miracles are evidence of the Divine wUl ; and
that a command which has the warrant of a miracle
is to be regarded as coming from God. This is the
law relating to this subject which Scripture both
expresses in words, and assumes and supposes in its
historical account of the courses of events, and of
Divine Providence. But when we enter further into
the teaching of Scripture on this subject, we discover
that, together with this general mle respecting miracles,
there is a coUateral principle inculcated ; viz., that a
miracle may be permitted by God for the purpose of
trial. Where, then, the authority of a miracle contra
dicts any clear knowledge we have of the Divine wiU,
any instructions from antecedent sources, this is the
interpretation of it which Scripture enjoins upon us.
We are warned that the miracle does not in such
cases bear its primary and more natural interpretation
as an evidence of the Divine wUl, but the secondary
interpretation of it as a trial of moral strength in resist
ing that apparent evidence, — of the moment and from
without, — in favour of a more real evidence of His wU]
which we have from antecedent sources or from within.

34 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
Thus it i^ laid down in the Old Testament that a miracle
cannot authorise an act of idolatry ; and in the New Tes
tament that a miracle cannot authorise the acceptance of
any doctrine manifestly opposed to the Gospel revela
tion. In such cases we are plainly told that the purpose
of the miracle is not evidence but trial ; that it is in
tended to test our faith ; to prove us, whether we give
way to the more tangible and extemal kind of appeal
against a deep inward persuasion of a moral and reli
gious kind, or whether we adhere loyally to the inner
law in spite of the outer pretension of authority, A
miracle is thus not represented in Scripture as absolutely ^
and of itself evidence of a Divine command : rather it is
expressly represented as not being. We find that it Ues
under conditions ; that it is limited by our own know
ledge gained from other and prior sources of the Divine
wUl ; that it is checked by the internal evidence of
moral and religious truths, — ^whether principles of beUef,
or rules of conduct, — which, either express revelation,
or God's natural enlightening Providence has imparted
to us. The Scriptural check, e.g., would be the same
against a miracle, on the side of idolatry, whether we
supposed the unity of God to have been arrived at by
natural reason or by special revelation. The rule of
Scripture in substance is that no great moral or reli
gious principle or law of conduct of which we are
practically, upon general antecedent grounds, certain,
can be upset even by a real miracle ; but that when the
two come into coUision as evidence, the miracle must
give way and the moral conviction stand ; that no
miracle, in short, can outweigh a plain duty ; and that

The Sacrifice of Isaac. > 35
a real miracle might be wrought, and yet it would be
wrong to do the act which the miracle enjoined.
If, then, a certain class of Divine commands which
were proved by miracles in one age of mankind could
not be proved by the same evidence now, this must
arise in consequence of some difference in the con
ceptions of mankind in former ages and in our own,
in consequence of which such commands were suitable
to an earlier period of the world and not to a later,
and were adapted for proof by miracles then, and are
not adapted for that mode of proof now. If, e.g., a
miracle was in a former age sufficient evidence of a
Divine command to destroy life, and now it is not, it
must be that we are now possessed with a principle
in such strong disagreement with homicide, that the
alternative of the miracle being only permitted as a
trial necessarUy becomes more reasonable now than
that of its being proof of a command ; whereas this
principle did not exist in equal force and strength in
the mind of a former age, and therefore the miracle
was taken in its more obvious meaning as proof of a
Divine cbmmandment. It must be, in short, that the
command was accommodated to the age in which it was
given, and was therefore adapted to be proved by a
miracle ; whereas now such a command would be in
opposition to a higher law and general enUghtenment,
that would resist the authority of the miracle : which
mode of proof would consequently be unfitted for it.
To kUl another, even an innocent man, is so far
indeed from being itself contrary to moraUty, that
nothing can be more certain than if it were knovm

36 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
that God ordered us to take away the Ufe of an
innocent man, it would be strictly obligatory upon us
to do so. But though this is undoubtedly trae ia
speculation and as a supposition, yet in practice the
rights of human life are so strongly felt now, they are
so intimate a part of the moral progress of mankind,
and the responsibUity of violating them is so tre
mendous, that no miracle could practically act as
sufficient evidence to warrant the infraction of them,
and the destruction of the life of an innocent person.
Because a miracle is, by the express law of Scripture,|
always subject to the possibUity that it may be sent
for our trial in resisting, instead of our faith in obeying
it. But if there is any case in the world in wliich
this condition would operate, it is in the case of a
supposed miraculous command to take away the life
of an innocent man. Although therefore in theory
the Divine command to kUl him, supposed to he
known, would be strictly obUgatory, nor would the
innocence of the man be any contradiction to it, yet
in practice the difficulty is so great of its becoming!*
known, that such a command would be virtuaUy;
nugatory ; a miracle could be the only evidence of it,
and that, by the law of Scripture, has been disabled
to act as evidence. The act of kUling another, as being
simply an external act, is not, indeed, in any contra
diction whatever to a right state of the affections, but
the act itself does not the less require justification ; a
Divine command alone can be that justification ; and
no evidence under the circumstances can be given of
a Divine command.

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 37
What was the difference then in the conceptions of
mankind in a former age, compared with the present,
which renders a miracle evidence of Divine command
to kUl then, whereas it could not be such evidence now ?
When we examine the ancient mind all the world
over, one very remarkable want is apparent in it, viz.
a tme idea of the individuality of man ; an ade
quate conception of him as an independent person, —
a substantial being in himself, whose life and existence
was his own. Man always figures as an appendage to
somebody — the subject to the monarch, the son to
the father, the wife to the husband, the slave to the
master. He is the function or circumstance of some
body else. The slave was a piece of property — KT^fjfia
ilJi\fivxov, and the old Hindu law divided " cattle into
bipeds and quadrupeds." The laws of Manu insert
the persons of the wife and the son in the person of
the head of the famUy, as if they were absorbed and
incorporated in it, just as the several members are
absorbed and embraced in the unity of the body.
" A man is perfect when he consists of himself, his
wife, and his son."^ Their property belongs to the
man, because "they belong to him,"^ upon which
ground he could seU or give away his son for a slave.
Stories from the Brahmanas show that an Aryan
father had power of life and death over a son.^
Oriental civU law formally recognised the judicial
principle of extending the parent's guUt and punish
ment to the children, which it could have done only
1 Sir W. Jones, vol. viii. p. 8. ^ Ibid., p. 398.
3 Max Miiller's History of Sanscrit Literature, p. 408.

38 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
under a defective idea of the child's individuaUtyl
treating the chUd as a mere appendage of the father.
In a public execution the criminal's whole famUy was
punished by the same judicial sword which infficted
death upon himself: nor was this done upon the
ground of any special command from an avenging
deity, which indeed was not needed for it, but only
as an exercise of the simple right of civU justice— a|
right not indeed always acted upon, but stUl rooted
in law, and ready for use whenever the civU authority?
thought fit to fall back upon it.
We see, indeed, both in the poUtical institutions
and superstitions of antiquity, regulations and practices;
which obviously imply, as the necessary condition of
their existence, a totally different idea of human indi-
viduaUty, and of human rights, from that with which
modern society and Christian society is animated.
We find that this State and that that State had what
appear to us most extraordinary, most eccentric and
anomalous laws, in the sphere of human rights ; radi
caUy, as it seems to us, clashing with those rights,.
We are at first disposed to lay the blame entirely.
upon the particular states and lawgivers. But when
we see one state after another involved in the charge^
it graduaUy becomes clear to us, that though par
ticular states may have got out of an acknowledged
principle stronger and rougher consequences and
worked it to a harsher issue than others did, there
must have been some universal defective conception
of human rights in those ages, to have made these
particular laws and customs of certain states pos-

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 39
sible. A lawgiver cannot act against the universal
opinion of mankind in his day; if he institutes
any particular infringement of human rights, there
must be a premiss for that infringement in a uni
versal defective conception of mankind at that day.
Thus the law of Lycurgus for the destruction of
weakly infants in Sparta at the very birth, would
have been impossible, had there not been all over the
world then a very different conception of the right of
the human being with respect to his own life than
what exists now. With us the rights of man com
mence with his very birth; and an infant an hour old
has an independent right and property in his own life,
which the whole world cannot take away from him.
Had that been the received idea in the age of
Lycurgus, he could not have founded this Spartan
rule ; but it was not. Mankind had not embraced as
yet the true notion of human individuality ; man was
an appendage to some man or some body. That the
infant was treated as the pure property of the state
in Sparta, was a result which rose upon an universal
defective assumption regarding man in that stage of
human progress ; it was a harsh and cruel use of that
assumption, but it could not have arisen without that
assumption as its condition.
This great defect of conception was indeed deeply
fixed in the Eoman law. As a code for the regula
tion of property, the Eoman law commands our
admiration; its assumptions, its distinctions, its
fictions, are of the highest legal merit ; its whole
structure was based upon nature and common sense.

40 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
and it carried into the most intricate detaUs and
appUcations an instinctive standard of equity, of
which it never lost sight. The contrast therefore is
aU the greater when from the regulation of property
we tum to its deaUngs with persons. In the former
we have an anticipation of modem civilisation, and
we feel ourselves amid modem ideas, and in the
atmosphere of our own courts. In the latter we are
consigned to barbarism again. The criminal law of
Eome took low ground in its estimate of a large class
of crimes, which it treated as civU wrongs oiUy ; but
its great blot was the domestic code. The son was
the property of the father, without rights, without
substantial being, in the eye of Eoman law. The
father had the power of life and death over him ; was
the proprietor of aU the wealth he acquired. The
wife, again, was the property of her husband, an owner
ship of which the moral result was most disastious.
The Eoman ladies, as the arts and refinements of Ufe
advanced, disdained the harsh yoke of true matrimony,
— not only did the sacramental ceremony of the con-
farreatio faU almost entirely into disuse, but even the
stricter civU marriage, the conventio,'wSkS, neglected; and
in its place was substituted a contract which left either
party the liberty to dissolve the connection at wUl, out
of which arose the matrimonial picture of Juvenal —
Kunt octo mariti
Quinque per autumnos.*
The same defective idea of human individuaUty
and the rights of life is shown in a very different
^ Satire vi. 228.

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 41
fact, which has a horrible prominence in the history
of ancient reUgions, viz. the prevalence of human
sacrifice. It is impossible to suppose that any super
stition, however strong, could have so trampled upon
the natural right of life, as the custom of human
sacrifice did, had there been at the time that idea of
the natural right of life existing in the human mind ;
that is to say, if that idea had existed in any definite
shape. The very selfishness of man, and the very
instinct of self-preservation, would in that case have
made him stand up for his own Ufe, against the claims
of a monstrous and cmel power. If we suppose such
a strict and accurate sense of the right of the indi
vidual to his own life as we have now, no superstition
however ferocious could possibly have had force enough
to withstand that sense, and sacrifice individuals
wholesale. There could not therefore have been then
that strict sense of the right and property of the in
dividual in his own life that there is now ; and the
institution of human sacrifice thus impUed as the
condition of its own estabhshment the defective idea
of the rights of the individual man.
With these facts before us, we may understand
how deeply fixed in the mind of ancient society was
the idea of one man belonging to another ; how long a
time it must have required to uproot that idea, and
how in truth nothing but a new religion could do it.
Even Eome, with aU her later material civUisation,
could never completely embrace the notion, which lies
at the bottom of all modern law and religion, that
every man is himself, an individual being with an in-

42 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
dependent existence of his own and independent rights.
The y^s naturale of the individual is indeed so self-
evident now, that we can hardly conceive society with
out it; and we are apt to suppose that it must have
been equaUy self-evident to any human being, in any
age, who had the simple exercise of his reason. But
all history shows that, so far from this idea having been
always obvious to the human understanding, it has on
the contrary been the slow and gradual growth of ages.
Nor perhaps is the consideration valueless, that in the
early stages of society, before civU govemment was
formed, and before man had become a trained and dis
ciplined being, as in a degree he is now, some strong
idea such as that which is contained in saying — ^You
belong to' another, you are the property of another, —
may have been necessary to contiol and keep in bounds'
the native insolence and wUd pride, the obstinacy, the
fierceness, the animal caprice, the rage, the spite, the
passion, of the human creature. When man was rude
and government was weak, there was wanted for the
control of man some idea which could fasten upon
bim and overcome him, and be in the stead of govem
ment and civUisation. Such an idea was this one.
The nature that can be coerced by nothing else can
be tamed by an idea. InstU from his earliest infancy
into man the idea that he belongs to another, is the'
property of another, let everything around proceed
upon this idea, let there be nothing to interfere with
it or rouse suspicions in his mind to the contrary, and
he wUl yield entirely to that idea. He wUl take his
own deprivation of right, the necessity of his own

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 43
subservience to another, as a matter of course. And
that idea of himself wUl keep him in order. He wUl
grow up with the impression that he has not the right
of ownership in himself; — in his passions, any more
than he has in his work. He wUl thus be coerced from
within himself, but not hy himself; i.e., not by an
active faculty of self-command, but by the passive re
ception of an instUled notion which he has admitted
into his own mind, and which has fastened upon him
so strongly that he cannot shake it off.
Do we not feel that we are apt to think of ourselves
as others think of us ? and that not by a rational act
of judgment but a mere passive yielding to an im
pression from vnthout. Let people around us think
poorly of us, and we think poorly of ourselves, at least
it requires an effort not to do so ; the oppositioti to
surrounding influence taxes our self-reUance. Hence
it is that, as an ordinary rule, it is not good for a man
either to live with or even see much of another who
habituaUy depreciates him ; such intercourse tends to
lower his spirit. For though a man's self-reliance
ought to be tested, it ought to be tested fairly, it ought
not to have a constant weight thrown upon it.
To return then to the Old Testament facts, — we
may observe that the same defective idea of human
individuality, and the right and property of the in
dividual in his own life, which prevaUed in early ages
generally, is traceable even in the Patriarchal and
Jewish mind. It would indeed be expecting too much
from a rude nation under slow training for higher
truth, that they should not partake of the general

44 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
notions of the world at that time regarding the
natural rights of man. This latter is in truth, though
its root is in our moral nature, an idea of the civU or
poUtical order, and therefore it is not an idea of which
a purely reUgious dispensation. Patriarchal or Jewish,
guaranteed the present communication. It is an idea
which is part of the civiUsation of mankind, and we
might as weU expect at once civiUsation in the early
stages of human society, as expect this idea of the true
individuality of man in those stages. We do not in
deed, in identifying it with civiUsation, disconnect it
with morals : civUisation has its m^oral side in those
ideas which relate to the rights of man, — which belong
to the realm of justice, and the development of which
is a development and manifestation of justice. StiU,
though it is the moral side of civUisation to which
those ideas belong, they are a part of civilisation:
they are poUtical ideas. They come under the poUtical
head ; they appertain to mankind in their aspect of a
community as a subject of social order; they con
cern man in society, and in relation to his brother
man. They are therefore poUtical ideas, and belong
to the growth of civiUsation, It cannot therefore be
any reflection upon Patriarchal life and ethics to say
that in that early age they were defective in ideas of
that order. Nor is there any reason why we should
impose upon ourselves the supposition that the ages
of the Patriarchs, or the age of Moses, Joshua, or even
David, had the same exact sense of the natural right
of the individual man that the world now, after ages
of Divine schooUng, has attained ; for this would be to

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 45
be guUty of antedating the effect to the cause, and to
expect beforehand that very standard whieh was to
foUow after or from the course of the Divine dis
pensations ; — that very estimate and point of view
in the beginning of the Divine education which was
to be the end and the result of it. That man was
made in the image of God was indeed the original
tmth which contained the independent and true indi
viduaUty of the being; but this germinal truth wanted
development, and Patriarchal Ufe was antecedent to
that development.
It is not unworthy of notice that the degree of
the jus naturale of the individual with reference to
his own life, and his own property in it, is not even
yet an entirely settled question in the world; that
upon the primary article of the right to deprive man
of Ufe, men are not even yet agreed ; and while the
generality maintain the justice of taking it away in
self-defence, or for the punishment of crime, a con
siderable minority deny the right of civil justice to
interfere with human life; and one sect maintains
the absolute inviolabUity of human life. If the
question then of the degree of the individual's right
and property in life is not even yet decided, and
considerable uncertainty stUl attaches to it, this
may help us to understand in what obscurity the
whole question of the right of Ufe might Ue in the
earUest ages of the vs^orld, when law was first emerg
ing out of a state of nature, and before the rights of
the nUer had undergone any scmtiny : and to under
stand too how this obscurity could exist even in the

46 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
Patriarchal mind, without any reflection upon it,
simply by reason of the age of the world to which it
belonged. Human power is a limited idea in modem
society, — ^how far its rights extend with respect to the
individual : but then human power was an unlimited
idea, without definite boundary or check; what it
could do or what it could not do to the individual
was aU in confusion ; and in the haze which rested
upon this whole subject, one idea was dominant,
viz. that one man belonged to another, and was an
appendage to another, the son to the father, the
servant to the master, and the Uke. The principle
of the inviolabiUty of human life was indeed always
admitted in a degree, but it was the degree of the
inviolabiUty upon which the morality of particular in
terferences with Ufe, and the sufficiency of particular
reasons for that interference, hinged.
It must be remembered that this conception of
man, as the property of and the appendage to another,
is not one which involves any cruelty, any harsh
ness. A father may regard his son as being, as a
matter of, right, his property ; and yet this very son
may be to him his dearest treasure, and the loss of
him may be the bitterest grief. The idea does not
interfere with the tenderest inward relations of a
father to him. When Eeuben says, " Slay my two
sons, if I bring him not to thee"^ — the speech
^ Gen. xiii. 37. "Among the Jews, as among most nations of an
tiquity, the parental power was absolutely despotic, even to life and
' death. The Mosaic law, however, enacted that a guilty son could not
be punished with death, except by the judicial sentence of the commu
nity." — Milman's History of the Jeies, vol. i. p. 22.

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 47
certainly shows that the father of the Patriarchal
age regarded the son as belonging to him, as being
in a way his property, so that as a matter of right
his Ufe was lawfuUy at his disposal. But it does not
show want of paternal affection, or that he made the
offer in any other spirit than that of self-sacrifice ; as
a surrender just of the very article of property which
was dearest to him, when the preservation of the
whole community was at stake ; and a hostage and
pledge for the safety of Jacob's beloved son seemed to
be wanted in the severe extremity. The idea of
property is in no contradiction at aU to love ; human
love regards the being ; and the rights with respect to
the being do not alter the being. This is a question
of what you can do to another : his own value to you,
dearness to you, is another thing. The Ufe may be
worth anything to you ; but the jus — the particular
right, your power over it, is a distinct idea. It
might be said in some despotisms, the power only
heightens the love ; because the absolute dependence
of another would be an actual claim upon affec
tion, and his being at your mercy would give him at
once an acceptableness in your sight.
Undoubtedly the defective conception of human
individuaUty was an opening for cruelty and oppres
sion, and the greatest practical enormities ; but it
does not in itself involve them. As proofs of the
existence of this universal defective conception in
ancient society, I referred above to Sparta, Eome, and
the prevalence of human sacrifices. But though this
original defect of conception was a condition of the

48 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
rise of these inhuman codes and this ferocious
practice, and though they could not have arisen
without it, this is not to say that the mere defect of
conception itself amounted to inhumanity, or that it
necessarUy produced inhumanity. It was in itself a
neutral inteUectual defect. And though the savage
character of some communities founded cmel and
oppressive practices upon it, there is no reason why it
may not have existed in other communities and in
the Jewish, without such results, and with the tone of
society not brutaUsed and made cruel by it.
With this defective idea, then, of human indi
viduality, with this way of regarding one man as
belonging to another man, established in the ancient
mind and in the Patriarchal mind generaUy, we come
to the act of the great Patriarch. In the present
age, with the principle of human individuaUty and
right now developed and become the law of our con
duct to man, an interference on our part with the life
of the human independent being, supposed to be inno
cent, is so utterly incongruous, that a miracle on the
side of such an act would necessarily be interpreted by
us as a trial of faith, and not as evidence of a Divine
command. But in the Patriarch's age there was not
that moral-poUtical conception of man which consti
tutes this counterbalance to the miracle, and therefore
he gave the miracle that interpretation which was the
more obvious one, and which was in fact intended by
God, of evidence of a Divine command. In his case
there was the miracle, but there was not the weight in
the opposite scale— the evidence within which conflicted

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 49
with the evidence without. There was not that idea,
which it belonged to the subsequent Divine education
to develop in the world — the principle that a man is
an independent individual being, in distinction to his
being the appendage of another man. We are struck
immediately in the Scripture account of the sacrifice of
Isaac with the habitual sense of ownership — as distinct
from conferred momentary command, — with the entire
absence of aU struggle in the mind of the Patriarch ;
how he simply regards his son as a treasure of his
own which he has to give up, a treasure which is
dearer to him than any other earthly thing, and which
it is the greatest trial of his life to part with, but which
is StiU his own, belonging to him and appropriate to
him to surrender. This is the impression which the
whole of the scene itself raises. Indeed, if any one
imagines that the idea of property in the human being
could be incompatible with the greatest tenderness of
affection, such an unreasonable notion must vanish
with the solemn and beautiful account in Scripture.
The tenderness of affection for the son, in the very act
of surrendering him as his property, is prominent in
this picture. But stUl he is the property ; the ancient
idea of the son as belonging to the father pervades
the whole account. It is as his own property that he
surrenders and sacrifices the son. No description of
this wonderful transaction could have more clearly
exhibited how entirely consistent the sense of property
in the individual is with the value, the preciousness, of
that individual. If there reaUy were any one who
E

50 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
could suppose that a man's interest and delight in
something that belonged to him was less because it
belonged to him ; that his property was less dear to
him because it was his property ; such an extraordi
nary inference would certainly be whoUy confuted by
this passage of Bible history. If any one could reaUy
think that the transcendent greatness of the sacrifice
and the surrender, would be in the least affected by
the circumstance that what a man was called upon to
surrender was a treasure of his own, something which
belonged to him, something which was part of himself,
such a mistake must be corrected by this descriptioH;.|
The son in this representation belongs to the father;
and when we come to examine and authenticate that
impression we find it is what the whole history of the
ancient mind verifies. The father, according to the
ideas of the age, regarded the son as his own, in such a
sense as made the sacrifice a sacrifice of what belonged
to the father, and which was appropriate to the father
to surrender. But at the present day the man belongs ^
to himself and not to another ; his life is his own ; and
to sacrifice that Ufe is to sacrifice what is the property :
of that man and of no other, to give up that which is
not yours to give. The great Patriarch was thus a
natural subject of a Divine command to sacrifice his
son ; because, in consequence of the earlier ideas
then prevailing, nothing interposed between his own
convictions and the authority of the miracle; but
a miracle to do such an act would be utterly incon
gruous at the present day, when no external evidence
to sacrifice another's life could possibly outweigh;

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 5 1
the strong internal convictions which forbid the inter
ference with it.
The general conclusion is, that according to the
very conditions of miraculous evidence laid down in
Scripture, civUisation must in some cases affect the
relevancy of miracles as evidence of Divine commands.
Abstractedly the Lord of human life can command
the destmction of that life ; but the question before
us is a question not of abstiact propositions only, but
of what there is evidence of; and civiUsation affects
the question of evidence; affects it upon the principles
of Scripture itself. The Scripture law of miraculous
evidence qualifies and checks that evidence by the
rival force of inward moral grounds and principles.
The unity of God was no sooner estabUshed than
miracles were nugatory in favour of idolatry ; and the
truths of the Gospel were no sooner established than
miracles became nugatory in favour of another gospel.
And this Scriptural principle of counteraction to
miraculous evidence must apply as weU to any other
moral grounds and principles of which we feel certain,
and which have established themselves in our moral
standard. But civilisation does create such grounds
and principles in our minds, because civUisation is not
entirely a material movement but is also a moral
movement — moral in regard to some principles of
human right and practice. In the moral progress of
mankind in the later ages of the world, the intense
conviction has sprung up of certain tiuths respecting
man, and certain principles of right and justice in
regard to man; and these principles within us become

52 The Sacrifice of Iscmc.
counter-evidence to the authority of miracles, when
those profess to command acts which are in an opposite
direction. In those cases, therefore, the growth of
civilisation affects the authority of miracles and the
argument from miracles. For the more certain we
become of any truth regarding God or man, the more
are we out of the power of being convinced by a
miracle which woiUd lead in a contrary direction to
that truth. In this way the progress of mankind
must gradually exclude certain homicidal acts, as
subjects of Divine command, upon miraculous evidence.
The Scripture philosophy of miracles enforces a fresh
modification of the doctrine of miraculous evidence,
upon fresh moral convictions arising. Before the
ideas of natural right were developed, homicidal Divine
command was capable of miraculous evidence; but
suppose these ideas developed, then the inviard anta
gonism to the acts is so strong that they cannot be
surmounted by anything miraculous that is only out
ward; and the altemative becomes unavoidable, that
the miracle is for the other purpose mentioned in
Scripture, viz. the trial of faith, and not the support
of a command.
But in this state of the case, in which the miracu
lous evidence of a certain class of Divine commands is
necessarUy neutralised, it becomes impossible to sup
pose that there wUl be the Divine commands ; and
therefore what has been said amounts to this, that God
adapts His commands to different ages. It is unreason
able to suppose that God would now work miracles in
cases in which His own educating providence has

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 5 3
neutraUsed them as evidence of His commands :
that is to say. He would not now give the com
mand. But that He would not give such commands
now, is not to say that He might not give them in a
former age, when such commands had an appropriate
and natural mode of proof; viz. by miracles — that is,
by the full evidence which miracles had, before that
evidence was modified by the ideas which His own
educatory providence has since instUled. God adapts
His employment of miracles to the state of evidence ;
which, upon the Scriptural rule, differs with man's dif
ferent states of enUghtenment ; and with the evidence
for the commands, necessarily also withdraws the com
mands ; and thus we come, as to the ultimate position,
to the rule of Divine wisdom, that God suits His com
mands to the age ; and gives or withholds them accord
ing as man is a natural recipient of them.
It wUl indeed be denied by some that such miracles
to command such acts ever really took place ; and it
will be said that these were simply actions of the age,
inspired, both on their good and their bad side, by the
spirit of the age in which they were done. But such
a question as this, however necessary to meet in
its proper place, is not one which appertains to the
particular section of Old Testament inquiry now under
discussion. In examining the morality of the Old
Testament, we must take the actions of the Old
Testament history as they are there given ; we are not
concerned with other actions, or, what is the same
thing, with the actions as otherwise described. An
objector to Scripture history may consider himself

54 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
necessitated by his own ideas to make a fundamental
difference in the account of these classes of actions as
given in Scripture ; he may not beUeve in miracles,
and, in accordance with this beUef, he may refuse to
hold that these classes of actions were ever commanded
by miracles. But we are not concerned upon the
point now under discussion with such a conjectural
speculation as this, which would assign a different
basis to the actions of the Old Testament.
Upon the question of the morality of the Old Tes
tament, we must assume the actions of the Old Testa
ment as they stand ; for the moral standard of the Old
Testament cannot be responsible for any other. The
Bible cannot be made responsible for actions which are
not contained in it, — for other actions than those which
it describes ; for actions grounded upon different
motives and different reasons and premisses.
In the case of the homicidal class of actions, the
evidence of a Divine command constitutes, in the Old
Testament, the very ground of their justification ; this
special authorisation is no superfluity, but the absolute
need of the transaction, without which it is unwarrant
able and indefensible. The defective idea of the indi
vidual's right, inherent in the age, was indeed the
condition of the acceptance of the miraculous evidence
ofthe command when given ; but it did not authorise
the act of itself, without the command. It was the
Divine command, then, which made, according to the
standard of the Old Testament, the distinction between
the patriarchal acts in violation of human life, and the
heathen ones, which were in violation of the same

The Sctcrifice of Isaac. 5 5
principle; and we may add as well, between some
Jewish homicidal acts and others. No one could pos
sibly compare the ground upon which the sacrifice of
Isaac stands in the Old Testament, with the ground
upon which Jephthah's sacrifice of his daughter stands.
The latter is mentioned as a simple fact, without the
shadow of an approval ; because indeed it was, like the
heathen acts of that kind, unauthorised. The former
is extoUed as the very model of faith and self-surrender.
The punishment of the chUdren on account of the
father's crime was prohibited in the Jewish code, and
was, as a matter of human law, condemned.^ It was
the special Divine command which alone was regarded
as authorising it in the Old Testament.
But it will be said, perhaps. Can we suppose God
taking advantage of an actually inferior state of ideas
in the world, in order to give a particular command,
which He would not give in an age of higher and
more mature ideas ? Can we suppose Him working a
miracle for it then, because, in an inferior state of
ideas on moral subjects, a miracle could not be in
conffict with intemal evidence ? It may be repUed
that such a discriminating proceeding would doubt
less be an instance of accommodation ; but why not
of wise accommodation ? It seems to belong suitably
to the Divine Governor of the world to extract out of
every state of mankind the highest and most noble
acts to which the special conceptions of the age can
give rise, and direct those earUer ideas and modes of
thinking toward such great moral achievements
^ Deut. xxiv. 16.

56 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
as are able to be founded upon them. If there is
a progress in 'ideas, why should not one stage as weU
as another, a former stage as weU as a later, a rader
as well as a more enUghtened, express itself according
to its own model, and present to God the various
'developments in act, of the same fundamentaUy
virtuous wUl ? Let man show forth all the good that
he is capable of, in the mode and manner in which he
is capable of it. If in earlier ages he was unshackled
by the later ideas of the individual's right and property
in Ufe, and if it so happened that a very wonderful
and extraordinary self-sacrifice could be drawn out of
this very want in the age, why should not the human
mind be directed in the way of that sacrifice, and that
great reUgious self-surrender be extracted from it by
a Divine command ?
Such an act was the sacrifice of Isaac, and such
was the state of ideas which preceded it as the
conditions of the act. The self-sacrifice in the act is
obvious from the history. It was, in the first place,
neither more nor less than to all appearance total
ruin — the downfall of every hope, and the coUapse of
a life. To an ordinary man of business even, if he
has any spirit, the breakdown of a life's work is a
dreadful thought ; because he wants to feel — and it is
a legitimate want — ^that he has done something, and
that he has been somebody. But the Patriarch had
through Ufe felt himself the minister and instrument
of a great Divine design with respect to mankind:
he had Uved with a gigantic prospect before him,
with an immense expanding blessing, which was one

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 57
day to include aU nations and be the restoration of
the world. This vast plan then, his part in which
had been the work of his life, and had fiUed his mind
with immeasurable hopes, as it had been sown in
his son, would perish with his son. Then all was
over, and his life had come to nothing. This is one
side of the act of self-sacrifice, but it is not all ; for
the chUd himself, he upon whom such a promise
hung, such boundless hope, such a vast calculation,
and who was loved all the more with a father's love
because he was the harbinger of the prophet's great
ness, the symbol of life's purpose answered ; — he was
to be surrendered too. Such was the act of the
sacrifice of Isaac. But it required the particular state
of ideas in the world at that time, and the defective
state of ideas respecting the right of the individual
man, for this great act to be brought out. Without
those ideas it could not have been the subject of
Divine command, having evidence that it was a
Divine command ; a miracle woidd not be evidence to
us that God bade a father kiU an innocent son : if it
was, as it was, evidence to Abraham, it was because
that clear idea of the individual right, which involved
the inviolabiUty of life, did not exist in his age as it
does in ours ; it was because the Patriarch of that day
had the political ideas of his day, — of one person
belonging to another, and the son being the append
age of the father. It was out of an inferior state of
ideas in regard to human right, out of a lower
poUtical sense, that an act of romantic and sublime
self-sacrifice was extracted ; and the very want in the

58 The Sacrifice of Isaac.
age was used as a means of developing the religion
of the man. And this was a step which it was suit
able for the Governor of the world to take ; because it
enlarged the amount of human virtue, it made even
the shortcomings of the time subservient to the per
fection of the individual ; and it brought out a great
reUgious act which was to be a lesson and a type to
aU ages. It must be observed that great acts are a decided
part of the providential plan for the education of
mankind. The pecuUar and superior force of acts in
this direction, as compared with general chmracter, is
gained upon a principle which is very inteUigible. A
great act gathers up and brings to a focus the whole
habit and general character of the man. The act is
dramatic, while the man's habit or character is didactic
only ; and what is more, there is a limitation in
character which there is not in an act. There is a
boundlessness in an act. It is not a divided, balanced
thing, but is like an immense spring or leap. The
whole of the man is in it, and at one great stroke is
revealed. A great act has thus a place in time ; it is
like a great poem, a great law, a great battle, any
great event ; it is a movement ; it is a type which
fructifies and reproduces itself. Single acts are trea
sures. They are like new ideas in people's minds.
There is something in them which moulds, which lifts
up to another level, and gives an impulse to human
nature. If we examine any one of those signal acts
which are historical, we shall find that they could none
of them have been done but for some one great idea

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 59
vnth which the person was possessed, and to which he
had attached himself. Thus, if we examine the act of
Titus Manlius in executing his son, after crowning him
victor, in justice to the violated majesty of Eoman
law, there must have been in his mind a kind of
boundless idea of Eome, — of what Eome was ; that it
was greater than any conceivable form of greatness,
and transcended aU imaginable empire. Eome was
to him the impersonation of supreme order, uncon
querable wUl, indestructible power. Eome was eternal.
He then who disobeyed Eome must die ; even the
youthful victor in the first fiush of triumph; and
while the father's heart leapt with pride, the Eoman
general must be inflexible. Thus the famous heathen's
seK-sacrifice rested upon a boundless idea of the state
to which he belonged, and the power to which he owed
aUegiance. In the mind of the Patriarch in the place of a great
power of earth must be substituted the boundless idea
of an invisible Power ; where in the heathen father's
mind Eome stood, there was God. The Lord of this
universe has the right to all we have, and everything
must be surrendered to Him upon demand. But upon
an Almighty Being rose boundless hope too — the
vastness of conception which Scripture speciaUy attri
butes to Abraham. Hope in the ordinary type, is
partly sight ; when Ught has begun to dawn, and the
first signs of restoration and renewal appear. Hope
is the first sight we catch of returning good, that first
gleam of it which heralds and represents the end.
But hope which is seen is not hope. It is hope while

6o The Sacrifice of Isaac.
all is dark around us, — whUe as yet there is no visible
link between us and the end, — that exhibits the prin
ciple in its greatness and in its true energy. And this
hope must rest upon that ultimate Power at the very
root of things which can reverse every catastrophe and
rectify aU mistakes. To hold on to this root is hope
withdrawn into its last fastness ; and, without aid from
any sight, grasping with an iron force the rock itseU,
the foundation of Sovereign WiU upon which the uni
verse stands, and saying to itself, " The whole may
shake, if this foundation remaineth sure." This was
the infiiUte hope of Abraham. Doubtless whUe he
lifted up the knife to slay his son, the sun was turned
to darkness to him, the stars left their places, and
earth and heaven vanished from his sight ; to the eye
of sense aU was gone that life had built up, and the
promise had come actuaUy to an end for evermore;
but to the friend of God all was stUl as certain as
ever, all absolutely sure and fixed ; the end, the
promise, nay even the son of the promise, even
he in the fire of the burnt-offering was not gone,
because that was near and close at hand which could
restore ;— the great Power which could reverse every
thing. A voice within said, AU this can be undone, ?
and can pass away Uke a dream of the night ; and
the heir was safe in the strong hope of him who
" accounted that God was able to raise bim up even
from the dead."
Do you say then that such an act could not be
done now ? That is aU the more reason why it should
have been done ; — why it should have been done when

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 6i
it could be done ; when the state of evidence admitted
of it ; when the primitive standard of human rights
gave the son to be the property of the father, to be
surrendered by him, upon a call, as his own treasure.
That idea, — ^that very defective idea of the age, — it was,
which rendered possible the very point of the act, the
unsurpassable pang of it, the self-inflicted martjrrdom
of human affection, the death of the son in wUl, by the
father's hand. That idea of the age therefore was
used to produce that special fruit which it was adapted
to produce ; the particular great spiritual act of which
it suppUed the possibiUty, and which was the most
splendid flower of this stock. If the idea of the age
was rude, the act was not the less spiritual which it
enabled to be done ; because the idea of the age only
founded the proprietary right of the father, the spirit
uality of the act lay in the surrender of the son. The
surrender itself was of the highest Gospel type, as
being the offering up of the deepest treasure of a man's
heart ; that which gave him the sharpest agony to part
with. And, indeed, we may observe that however
rude was the state of ideas which enabled the act to
be done, the act itself has been the appropriated lesson
not so much of earlier ages as of later, not so much of
Jewish times as of Christian : the moral did not come
out so clearly in Jewish history ; it reserved itself tUl
Judaism had passed away and given place to the
Gospel; and though an act of earliest time had its
main instructive strength in latest. The distinction
then is most important, and should be always kept io

62 . The Sacrifice of Isaac.
mind, between that state of ideas which enables an act
to be done and the act itself. Those were doubtless
primitive and rude ideas as to the rights of the indi
vidual and the inviolabUity of life, which made the
Divine command to slay an innocent son credible, and
a miracle sufficient proof of it ; but the spirituality of
the surrender was not in the least affected by that
circumstance. The •^^os of the act, the faith, the
tmst, the resignation, were the same. The act is
whoUy distinct from the evidence of the obligation
to it; the evidence was affected by the age; an
etemal and spiritual type distinguished the act.
Thus, far from any lowering effect attaching to the
principle that God makes use of the ruder conditions
of the human mind, and accommodates His commands
to diBferent ages, on the contrary, this principle has
produced the highest result. The rudeness of the age
admits of having the most exalted acts buUt upon
it, and acts which last as exemplars through future
ages of enUghtenment. This principle does not permit
the earUer conditions of human thought to Ue faUow
and barren, but extiacts out of every state of the
human mind its proper effort, and makes the best of
every age m keeping with its fundamental ideas.
Every period of the world contributes the special
expression of moral beauty and greatness of which it
admits ; and that magnificent and extraordinary act
of romantic morals which cannot be obtained from a
higher state of civUisation is extiacted from a lower.
Never again, mdeed, whUe the world lasts, can that

The Sacrifice of Isaac. 63
act be done within the Church of God : but that it has
been done is the wealth of the Church and of man
kind ; and is the fruit of the spiritual poUcy of that
Great Being who has educated the world, and who
has worked to the highest advantage every stage in
the moral progress of mankind.

LECTURE IIL
HUMAN SACRIFICES.
I DEVOTED one Lecture to the general character
and situation of Abraham ; because when we have
to judge upon one very remarkable act of a man, it
is an advantage to have the man himself before us.
An explanation popular with one school, of the act of
the sacrifice of Isaac, is, that it was simply one of the
class of human sacrifices which were common at that
day, and especially among the Canaanitish races ; that
Abraham was seized with an enthusiasm of that
sanguinary type which propitiated God by human
victims ; and that he made Isaac the victim. It does
not appear to me that such a solution is at aU necessary,
but that, on the contrary, it clashes with the whole
history of Abraham, and the whole colour of his life
and character; whUe at the same time it degrades
and calumniates the Patriarch. That the Patriarch
of that day should not meet the miraculous evidence
of a Divine command to slay an innocent son, by the
same counter internal evidence that we should oppose
to it now, and that he was unable to feel this inward
impediment, on account of the defective moral and
poUtical conceptions of that day, — the inadequate
sense of human individuality and human rights,— is an

Human Sacrifices. 65
explanation which does not lower the Patriarch in our
eyes ; because it only charges him with ideas which
belonged to that age of the world, and were necessary
in that stage of human progress. This explanation
acknowledges a Divine command, and that the act
was done in obedience to a Divine command ; and it
only requires that the command was accommodated
to an earlier state of ideas regarding the human
being and his rights. But in attributing to Abraham
such a defective- state of ideas on this subject, we are
not therefore assuming him to have been under the
influence of a gross and cruel superstition which sacri
ficed its thousands upon inhuman altars as a propitia
tion to sanguinary idols.
To represent him only as without a certain class
of ideas relating to humanity, which had not yet
arisen in the world, is a completely different thing
from regarding him as impUcated in a horrible and
vUe usage, which was a lapse and a fall from the
antecedent reUgion of the world ; — from making him a
foUower and disciple of the Canaanites.
In comparing, then, these two explanations with
reference to the internal evidences of Scripture bearing
upon them, and their agreement with the facts of Abra
ham's life and character, I must observe fiirst, that the
whole portrait which Scripture gives us of Abraham,
and which formed the subject of the first Lecture, is
altogether in opposition to such a solution of the sacri
fice of Jsaac as would make it a copy of the human
sacrifices of the Canaanites. It is indeed doubtful
whether the introduction of human sacrifices into the

66 Human Sacrifices.
worship of these people was so early as to be contem
poraneous with Abraham. This is a disputed point.
Some able historical critics have arrived at a contrary
conclusion, and the terms on which Abraham stood
with the Canaanites and their chiefs would serve to
show that the worship of the Canaanites of his day
was a less advanced form of idolatry than that which
prevaUed in a later age. He is told that his descend
ants, and not himself, shall possess the land, because
"the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet fuU;"^ and
certainly, if we compare the aspect in which the
Canaanites present themselves to the eyes of Moses,
the character which he gives them, and the detestation
with which he regards them, with the apparent rela
tions of Abraham to the same people, we cannot but
see a marked difference in the earUer and later feeling,
such as would imply that these reUgious corruptions
had not grown to such a height in Abraham's age.
But even granting that the Canaanites offered human
sacrifices in Abraham's time, the whole facts of the
case, as recorded in Scripture, contradict the supposi
tion that the sacrifice of Isaac was put into the
Patriarch's mind by the sight of the superstitious
worship of those idolatrous races. The whole charac
ter of Abraham is in limine opposed to such a notion
as that of his borrowing from the Canaanites in reh
gion. For suppose a man of lofty independence of
mind, who had cast off the tiaditions of his own
country, rejected human authority, discarded idols,
and embraced the true rational conception of a God,
^ Gen. XV. 16.

Human Sacrifices. 67
to whom he appropriated a spiritual worship, adoring
Him under no material form but in His own in
visible essence ; supposing him standing alone in his
day in maintaining this pure worship, but casting his
eye forward upon a distant era in the world's future,
when that worship should become universal and gain
" all the families of the earth ;" suppose a man of this
remarkable type, — ^this enUghtenment and perception
of deep truth, — surrounded by the slaves of a grovel
ling superstition, enjoining cruel and inhuman rites ;
would it be the natural tendency of such a man to
accept the lead of that low reUgion, to borrow from its
worst rites, and aUow them to dictate a great and
critical act of his reUgious Ufe to him ? Such an idea
would not enter into his mind. Such a man would
look down with a vast sense of superiority upon so
degraded a form of reUgion, and would pass sentence
on it as a judge ; but would not dream of the attitude
towards it of a learner, imitating its inhuman prac
tices, and permitting them to originate an act of
worship for him. The very thought of bowing to
such an authority would be degradation and con-
tanfiination to him.
But the plain narrative of Scripture forbids such
a supposition as this, because it represents the act of
sacrifice as commanded expressly by God — nor only
as commanded by God, but as praised by God.
Scripture extols it indeed as an act of the sublimest
devotion and faith, and exhibits it as the ground of
an additional and overflowing renewal of the Divine
promise to the Patriarch, which is confirmed by an

68 Human Sacrifices.
oath and is vouchsafed to him not as the reward of
any former action or actions, but speciaUy and singly
on account of this action ; — "Because thou hast done
this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine
only son, I have sworn that in blessing I wUl bless
thee." ^ Such an account of this action is plainly in
consistent with its having been done in imitation of
the gross and cruel superstitions of Canaanites, and
excludes that rationale of it altogether.
It has indeed been observed that God's moving a
man to do some action is not, in the language of
Scripture, inconsistent with the motion being also at
the same time a temptation of Satan ; and the case is
pointed to of the two different phrases about the sin
of David in numbering the people, used respectively;
in the Book of Samuel ^ and the Book of Chronicles ; ^
in the fiirst of which books God is said to have moved
David to do this act, and in the latter Satan is said to
have moved him. But though it may be admitted
that there is nothing in God moving a man to do
something, regarded as a phrase, inconsistent with
Satan moving him also, this remark is totaUy irrele
vant in a case in which God not only moves a man to
do an act, but also praises that act when done. It
may be true that Satan may move a man whom God
in a certain sense moves too, — amoves in the sense of
permitting Satan or his own lusts to move him ; and
in this sense God moved David to number Israel,
whUe the same motive was also a temptation of Satan.
But it is impossible that Satan should move a man
' Gen. xxii. 16. ^2 Sam. xxiv. 1. ^ I Chron. xxL 1.

Human Sacrifices. 69
to do an act which God moves him to, and which
God also praises after it is done. The latter is the
turning point which decides definitively in the pre
sent case that Satan did not move Abraham, because
the act of Abraham being commended by God, was
good ; and it is impossible that Satan should move a
man to do a good act. In the case of Balaam it
may be observed that God moved in a sense. He
told Balaam " to rise up and go with the men." But
the context shows that was only a direction given
to Balaam upon the assumption that he chose to
foUow his own wUl; for God's anger was kindled
because he went. In the case of Balaam, therefore,
God's moving was quite consistent with Satan's mov
ing. But had the act of Balaam been praised by
God instead of calling down the Divine censure, no
motion from Satan could have been compatible with
the Divine motion.
But when, from the moral character of Abraham,
we tum to the actual plan of his Ufe and trial, we
find stUl stionger evidence against the hypothesis of
a copy of the human sacrifices of the Canaanites ;
because we find that this hypothesis is at variance
with the whole plan and purpose of the life-trial of
Abraham, — that that trial implies in its whole con
struction a totaUy different object and purpose for
the sacrifice of Isaac than that which this hypothesis
requires. It is of the very essence of a propitiatory sacri
fice that the offerer should contemplate the total loss
of the precious victim which he surrenders into the

70 Human Sacrifices.
hands of offended deity.^ The sacrifice is made as a
self-inflicted punishment ; its very object is the part
ing with a treasure, the final surrender of something
dear and valuable which belongs to him. There has
been sin, and sin must be atoned for by a voluntary
act of self-deprivation. In a word, the purpose of
propitiatory sacrifice is penal. And this is histori-
caUy the character of human sacrifices; they are
propitiatory ; they are designed to appease the anger
of an offended deity, by a father's loss of a son or
daughter, whom he sacrifices. Thus the angry
divinities of Greece, who detained the fleet at Aulis,
were supposed to be pacified by Agamemnon's loss of
Iphigenia ; and Mesha, king of Moab, sacrificed his son
to Chemosh, upon the idea that he should gral^.
Chemosh by the total loss of his son, which he volun
tarily imposed on himself. But the whole plan and
purpose of the tiial of Abraham excludes the contem
plation on Abraham's part of the total loss of Isaac,
the heir of the promise, and requires that he should
look forward to the miraculous restoration of his son
after death; imposing on him indeed in this confident
expectation a piercing trial of his faith, but not an
^ I am speaking here of the propitiatory sacrifice, according to the
human notion of it, according to what' it has always meant as a part of -
human worship, and an act of man himself offering up something in
atonement for his sins. The same condition, however, attached to the
mystery of the real Propitiatory Sacrifice, only with that quaMcation
which was necessary to fulfil the Divine plan. For although our Lord
ever foresaw His own Resurrection as immediately succeeding His death,
He did not rise again for the purpose of continuing His life upon earth,
which life He had sacrificed, but only to give evidence of the reality
of His propitiation, and for other purposes.

Human Sacrifices. 71
absolute and perpetual loss of his son. This is the
interpretation which the New Testament puts upon
the act of Abraham : "Abraham, when he was tried,
offered up Isaac : and he that had received the pro
mises offered up his only begotten son, of whom it
was said. That in Isaac shall thy seed be called :
axicounting that God was able to raise him up, even
from the dead ; from whence also he received him in
a figure." ^
We observe that the whole Ufe of Abraham tums
upon one great trial — the trial, viz., of his faith in the
Divine promise to him of a son to be the seed of a
whole nation, and by being the seed of a whole nation
be the channel of a great future blessing to the whole
world. This is what he has to believe. But at first
he has not got a son. The trial therefore of his faith
is to beUeve that he shaU have one ; and this part of
his trial lasts a long time, and the Patriarch's faith
gives way under it twice. The first occasion is, when,
in despair of a real heir, he substitutes his steward
EUezer as an adopted one. He becomes conscious
that this is only a makeshift and an expedient of
his own, gives up the arrangement, supplicates God
for a real heir, is promised a real heir, and beUeves
that promise. "And Abram said. Lord God, what
wilt thou give me, seeing I go chUdless, and the
steward of my house is this EUezer of Damascus ?
Behold, to me thou hast given no seed : and, lo, one
born in my house is mine heir.^ And the word of
the Lord came unto him, saying. This shaU not be
* Heb. xi. 17-19. ^ Gen. xv. 2, 3, 4, 6.

72 Human Sacrifices.
thine heir ; but he that shall come forth out of thine .
own bowels shall be thine heir. And he believed in
the Lord ; and He counted it to him for righteousness."
The second occasion on which the Patiiarch's faith
gives way is, when, at the suggestion of Sarah herself,
he sets up another substitute for a true heir, in the
person of a real son, but a son by a representative
wife — Hagar, whom Sarah appoints in her own place.
This divergence from the straight course of faith lasts
some years, though the true beUef in the gift of a real
heir some day, is never wholly suppressed ; and the
confidence in the heirship of Ishmael never appears to
exceed a kind of despondent wish that he might be
accepted as the heir in case none other came. " Oh,
that Ishmael might live before thee!" Again, how
ever, the promise of a true heir is renewed; twice
renewed. Abraham, after a short tumult of doubt in
his mind, beUeves absolutely, whUe Sarah is rebuked for
her unbeUef ; and then the son is born. This is the
final triumph of faith in Abraham, in the matter of the
birth of a son. For a long time beUef has been mixed
with doubt, or been broken by intervals of doubt; but
at last, just when this event is most improbable, nay,
humanly speaking impossible, at the very acme of its
trial faith conquers.
Such then being the preceding course of trial
in Abraham's life. Scripture informs us that the
command to sacrifice Isaac was but a carrying out of
the same plan of probation; only that whereas,
before the birth of the hefr, the birth was the subject
of the trial of his faith, now it is the preservation of

Human Sacrifices. 73
the heir born ; — that under the most desperate circum
stances, despite even of complete apparent impossi
bilities, even in the extreme case of the actual natural
death of that son, God would so contrive as to secure
his continuance, to be the seed of the future nation
and channel of the future blessing.
The trial in the sacrifice of Isaac is, whether
Abraham would believe that God could raise him up
to life again; and the merit of Abraham in that
sacrifice is the merit of rising to this belief. His
trial hitherto had been to believe that Isaac would,
under such great apparent improbabUities and against
the order of nature, be born; his tiial now was,
whUe contemplating his sacrifice, to believe that,
under such great apparent improbabUities and against
the order of nature, he should survive. But the one
trial was a continuation of and carrying on of the
other. The probation of Abraham is upon one plan
and method, and one part corresponds to and foUows
up another. A cloud of mystery encompassed the
gift of the heir ; it first rested upon his birth ; and
when that mystery was cleared up, the same cloud
reappeared and rested upon his continuance in life.
The great Power which so long delayed the gift now
demands the surrender of it. The trial of the Patri
arch is, that he has to pierce through the cloud in
either case, and that faith must foresee, as in the
first instance a birth, so in the second instance a
restoration. Scripture then has given us an explanation of the
act of Abraham in offering up Isaac ; has told us

74 Human Sacrifices.
what the act was, i.e., what it was in the mind of
the agent ; its scope and meaning, the pecuUarity of
the expectation upon which it was based ; and we
coUect with certainty from this Scriptural account of
the act that it was not a propitiatory sacrifice. It is
wanting in aU the essentials of such a sacrifice. The
object of it was not loss or punishment, but a certain
extraordinary manifestation of faith which is thereby
eUcited from him, — faith in the continuance of the
Ufe of Isaac, against the laws of nature, to be the
heir and transmitter of the promise.^ ' No sin in
deed of Abraham's is mentioned for which he has to
atone, and so the notion of a propitiatory sacrifice is
gratuitous ; but there is also abundant positive evi
dence of another and a different purpose in the sacri
fice; a purpose which actuaUy conflicted with the
idea of a propitiatory sacrifice ; for the idea of the
total loss of the thing offered is essential to a pro
pitiatory sacrifice ; but it was essential to the trial of
faith in this case that the thing offered should not be
looked upon as totaUy lost, but, on the contrary, as
about to be restored. It is the only merit of Abraham
in the performance of this act, that he believes that
the victim will survive it. As the heir of the promise
^ Heb. xi. 17-19. There is an aUusion to the same explanation
of Abraham's sacrifice in Rom. iv. 16, and scg  " The faith of
Abraham ; who is the father of us all," because that {xaTSvani ov) he
believed God " who guicheneth the dead, and calleth those things which
be not as though they were." We may observe that the passage as a
whole is a paraUel to the passage in Hebrews, connecting as it does the
birth of Isaac with the same kind of trial of faith as that which the
passage in Hebrews connects with the sacrifice of Isaac. — See Note 2.

Human Sacrifices. 75
and the guaranteed link between the Patriarch and
the future nation and blessing, the Divine word is
pledged for the continuance of Isaac's -life upon earth.
Abraham reUes upon this word. But in the very act
of thus relying upon it, he does not surrender Isaac
for good, he does not contemplate his final loss, he
does not look forward to a permanent parting with
him. He expects the restoration of the victim. His
act, then, is entirely deficient in those characteristics
which are necessary to the idea of a propitiatory
sacrifice.^ He contemplates an issue which negatives
^ " The faith of Abraham was to pass through a more trying ordeal.
He is suddenly commanded to cut off that life on which aU the splen
did promises of the Almighty seemed to depend. He obeys, and sets
forth with his unsuspecting child to offer the fatal sacrifice on Mount
Moriah, The immolation of human sacrifices, particularly of the most
precious, the favourite, the first-born child, appears as a common usage
among many early nations, more especially the tribes by which Abraham
was surrounded. It was the distinguishing rite among the worshippers
of Moloch ; at ai later period of the Jewish history it was practised by
a king of Moab ; it was undoubtedly derived by the Carthaginians from
their Phoenician ancestors on the shores of Syria. The offering of Isaac
bears no resemblance, either in its nature, or what may be termed its
moral purport, to these horrid rites. Where it was an ordinary usage,
as in the worship of Moloch, it was in unison with the character of the
reUgion, and of the deity. It was the last act of a dark and sanguinary
superstition, which rose by regular gradation to this complete triumph
over human nature. The god who was propitiated by these offerings,
had been satiated with more cheap and vulgar victims ; he had been
glutted to the fuU with human suffering and with human blood. In
general it was the final mark of the subjugation of the national mind
to an inhuman and domineering priesthood. But the Hebrew reUgion
held human sacrifices in abhorrence ; the God of the Abrahamitic family,
uniformly beneficent, imposed no duties which entaUed human suffer
ing, demanded no offerings which were repugnant to the better feeUngs
of our nature. Where, on the other hand, these filial sacrifices were of
rare and extraordinary occurrence, they were either to expiate some

76 Human Sacrifices.
it as such a sacrifice : and it is his merit, and it belongs
to the very nature of his probation in this matter, that
he should do so.
It may be objected, perhaps, that this account of
the transaction does not allow that which appears to
be an essential feature of the sacrifice on Mount
Moriah, the real surrender on Abraham's part of the
object of his deepest affections. It may be said that
this sacrffice was undoubtedly an act of mortification-;:?
and the surrender of a treasure, and that, as such, it
has been regarded in all ages as the type of the self-
denying and self-sacrificing life ; but that if Abraham
all along looked, and looked with confidence, to the
recovery of his treasure, there was no true surrender
and no sacrifice in this act. It would, however, be a
great mistake to say that, because there was the con
templation of a recovery here, there was therefore no
act of surrender or sacrifice. It must be considered,;i|
if Abraham resigns the possession of his son by cut
ting asunder the common bond of life, that that is a
true resignation of him. Death is an undeniable test
of the act of surrender. If the Patriarch looked be
yond death, to a recovery, that did not negative the
surrender which ipso facto had taken place in death.
dreadful guilt, to avert the imminent vengeance of the offended deity,
or to extort his blessing on some important enterprise. But the offer
ing of Isaac was neither piacular nor propitiatory. ... It was a simple
act of unhesitating obedience to the Divine command ; the last proof
of perfect reUance on the certain accomplishment of the Divine pro
mises. Isaac, so miraculously bestowed, could be as miraculously
restored ; Abraham, such is the comment of the Christian Apostle,
believed that God could even raise him up from the dead." — Milman's
History of the Jeius, vol. i. p. 20.

Human Sacrifices. 77
Such a yielding up was losing sight of him, seeing him
vanish from time, from visible nature ; it was parting
with him, according to physical law, for ever. Had the
father clutched the prize of a son, and once got, had
refused to part with him out of his sight, that would
have been the denial of surrender ; but the Patriarch in
this act committed him resignedly into God's hands,
and trusted him beyond the borders of the material
world into an invisible keeping. He contemplated
without shrinking an awful chasm in the earthly Ufe
of the heir ; he saw him for a moment swallowed up
in the abyss, and only to be restored to him by a
mysterious hand. But this was an act of true self-
sacrifice, and involved a tiue surrender of a dear
possession. The explanation, then, of the act of the sacrifice of
Isaac by supposing it to be a copy of the human
sa,crifices of the Canaanites, breaks down at every
step. It faUs first by being in total disagreement
with the character and mind of Abraham; it fails
next by being in absolute discord with the whole plan
and purpose of the life-trial of Abraham. There is
nothing in the account given of the act in the
slightest degree to connect it with such a worship
and such a motive. The human sacrifices of the
ancient world were in atonement for public crimes,
and were offered up in great national emergencies,
when war or pestUence threatened the very existence
of the people, and there was a cry for a gt-eat
deliverance. They were at any rate propitiatory, and
supposed bloodshed, or sacrUege, or some heinous

78 Human Sacrifices.
crime, as the occasion of them. But here there is no
crime mentioned for which propitiation is wanted.
On the other hand, the trial upon which the life of
the Patriarch turns is clear and conspicuous ; and
that demands a sacrifice which is not propitiatory,
but which is simply a trial of faith. A sceptic wiU
have his own explanation to give of a life turning
upon such a trial ; but even he, if he takes the account
as it stands, must admit that it is whoUy opposed to
the idea of the Patriarch's surrender of his son as a
propitiatory sacrifice : — ^that the Patriarch's act stands
upon other ground, and that the motives and the
prospects in the case have nothing in common with
those which originate a propitiatory human sacri
fice. He wiU attribute the Patiiarch's faith in the
restoration of Isaac from the dead, to a visionary and
wUd fanaticism ; but even he wiU not dispute, as an
historical truth, that Abraham was perfectly capable
of looking forward to such a solution of the difficultyj
of beUeving in such a miracle : that his eye could over
leap the dark chasm, and see his son standing safe on
the other side of it ; and that he was of such a mind
and spirit as that he could unhesitatingly beUeve -
that the heir of the promise would issue alive out of
the very jaws of death. This state of mind may be
amazing to him — a transformation and revolutionis
ing of human nature ; but that it has existed in men
the most absolute infidel cannot doubt. The whole
reUgion of the Bible is, from beginning to end,
historicaUy founded upon this absolute faith in an
absolutely omnipotent God. But such a belief, in

Human Sacrifices. 79
the mind of the Patriarch, in a certain restoration of
Isaac, — if we contemplate it only as a physiological
fact, — excludes wholly the intention of a propitiator)^
sacrifice, i.e., a human sacrifice in the ordinary meaning
of that term, and separates the motive and design of
it altogether from that religious basis.
Such is the preponderance of evidence against
the interpretation of a human sacrifice, drawn from
the whole life of Abraham, its order, course,
character, and plan ; the whole internal evidence of
the narrative is a protest against such a construction ;
whUe, on the side of that interpretation, there is only
one fact, viz. that there were such sacrifices in the
ancient world.
But whUe the sacrifice of Abraham was in itself,
and as a commanded action, a trial of the Patriarch's
faith and not a propitiatory act, it was yet designed
that it should at the same time be a type and figure of
the great Propitiation.^ For it is not essential to a
tjrpe that it should be a complete resemblance and
copy of that event of which it is the type, and should
in aU respects follow the pattern of the antitype. In
the sacrifice of Abraham and in the. sacrifice on the

1 " Of aU the Prophetic Types, says Mr. Davison, this one, in the
commanded sacrifice of Isaac, appears to be among the most significant.
It stands at the head of the dispensation of Revealed ReUgion, as reduced
into Covenant with the people of God in the person of their Founder and
Progenitor. Being thus displayed, as it is, in the history of the Father
of the Faithful, it seems to be wrought into the foundations of Faith.
In the surrender to Sacrifice of a beloved son, the Patriarchal Church
begins with an adumbration of the Christian reaUty." — Inquiry into
Primitive Sacrifice. Davison's Bemams, p. 150.

8o Human Sacrifices.
Cross the difference of scope and design m regard to
atonement leaves stUl a common extemal ground of
surrender ; and the .outward action or representation
contained in the former, of a father offering up his
only son upon the altar of wood, fulfils all the outward
requirements of a type. The lifting up of the serpent
in the wUderness was not propitiatory, but there was
in it and the propitiatory sacrifice on the Cross the
common principle of restoration proceeding from a
certain action, such action being first apprehended by
faith; and the outward representation contained ia
the lifting up of the serpent had the outward Ukeness
required for a type.
But it may be asked — ^Was it simply a curious
coincidence that the surrounding nations offered up
human sacrifices, and that Abraham offered up a
human sacrifice ? The answer is that the external
resemblance is not fortuitous, but that the two are
reaUy connected by the common principle of sacrifice
or surrender. First, the heathen recognised the prin
ciple of sacrifice in general, or the giving up of
something precious, as a mark of devotion to the
deity ; and this principle is common to the heathen
and to the Jewish and Patriarchal sacrifices in
general Secondly, human sacrifices were a mon
strous and extravagant expression, but stUl an ex
pression, of this principle. They proceeded upon the
assumption that human life was the most valuable of
all things, and especiaUy that a child was the most
precious possession of a father, ffom which it appeared
to follow that such a sacrifice was in plaee in extra-

Human Sacrifices. 81
ordinary emergencies. This principle of self-sacrifice
then, and in the very form of the sacrifice of a son, is
common to the heathen human sacrifices and to
Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. But when one common
element has been admitted, the difference is such as
to completely separate the two from each other as
religious acts ; the one being only a trial of faith, the
other the propitiation of an angry divinity.
Such are the two hypotheses which have occu
pied our attention with regard to the act of the
sacrifice of Isaac. There is the explanation of the
act, as an act of taking away the life of another, which
was given in the last Lecture, and there is the explana
tion of it as a human sacrifice, in agreement with the
cruel superstitious custom of the day, in heathen
countries. The explanation which was given in the
last Lecture was, that the conceptions of the day, with
respect to one man as being the property of another, —
the subject of the monarch, the son of the father, —
authorised the act in obedience to a miracle, inas
much as, with such conceptions of human rights and
human individuaUty, there was no counter internal
evidence against the act to counterbalance the miracle
in command of it. This explanation makes no differ
ence in the personal character or prophetic rank of
Abraham ; and only supposes in him the ideas of the
age in which he Uved, of the poUtical order ; such as
affect the independent rights and situation of the
individual man. It only does not suppose in Abraham
a modern estimate and a modem standard of those
rights, such as in the Patriarch of that age would have
G

82 Human Sacrifices.
been an anachronism. But the hypothesis of the act
being a human sacrifice in the ordinary sense, and a
copy of the human sacrifices of the Canaanites, mis
represents and libels the Patriarch ; degrades him into
a foUower and disciple of an idolatious and abandoned
race, and attributes to him the contamination of a
sympathy with their sanguinary altars, and the foUy
of having been caught by the snare of a pagan super
stition. Such an hypothesis is in the plainest contra
diction to his whole Ufe and the whole scope of his
trial.

LECTURE IV.
EXTERMINATING WARS.
nPHE argument of this Lecture is in substance tho
-¦- same as that of the second Lecture, only applied
to Divine commands for the destruction of nations and
masses of men, instead of to a Divine command for
taking away the life of a single person. The exter
minating wars of the Israelites also, involving as they
did the slaughter of whole populations, men, women,
and children, on account of the sin of the nation, in
volved the principle of punishing one man for the sin
of another; they were instances both of punishing
infants on account of their fathers' sins, posterity on
account of forefathers' sins, and some adults on
account of other adults. The command of Moses
respecting the Canaanitish nations was, " Thou shalt
save alive nothing that breatheth ; "^ and Joshua
strictly fulfiUed this order. He smote aU the cities
" with the edge of the sword, and utterly destroyed all
the souls that were therein; he left none remaining."^
And the Divine command, through the mouth of
Samuel, respecting Amalek was, " Slay both man and
woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and
ass."* The judicial destruction of whole fandUes was
a smaUer instance of the same principle. Such acta
1 Deut. 22. 16. 2 Josh. x. 39. = X Sam. xv. 3.

84 Exterminating Wars.
done in obedience to a Divine command are strongly
urged by unbelievers as objections against Old Testa
ment morality. It is repUed that God is the author
of life and death, and that He has the right at any
time to deprive any number of His creatures of hfe,
whether by the natural instrumentality of pestilence'
or famine, or by the express employment of man as
his instmment of destruction. And this as an abstiact
defence is unquestionably true ; nor can it be denied
that as soon as a Divine command to exterminate
a whole people becomes known to another people,
they have not only the right, but are under the
strictest obUgation to execute such a command.
But there is this great distinction between God
destroying human lives by natural means, and using
man as his executioner of a command for that pur
pose — viz., that whereas natural means are the un
conscious executors of the Divine wish, man as a
reasonable being, with understanding and will, is
bound, in the first place, to ascertain that it is the
Divine wish before he executes it. In what way, then;
is a Divine command for the destmction of a whole
nation, innocent and guUty aUke, made known to the
destroying nation ? By the evidence of miracles it is
repUed, and replied with trath ; but some distinction is
still wanted in dealing with this subject. For in the
present day would a miracle be sufficient authority to
us to do acts such as those which were done upon the
true authority of miracles under the older dispensation?
Would miracles be a warrant to us now to destroy
a whole nation, putting to death men, women, and

Exterminating Wars. 85
chUdren ; or to deprive a whole family of life on
account of some sinful act committed by the father ?
It wiU be acknowledged that they would not be ; we
should feel it impossible that God would reaUy
command us to do such acts as these now, what
ever commands He may have given in former ages ;
and we should put aside the authority of such
miracles, as designed, even if they were real, to test
our faith, not to make us do the acts in question. For
a miracle is not represented in Scripture as absolute
evidence of a command from God ; rather it is ex
pressly represented as not being. As evidence it Ues
under checks and conditions, in the absence of the
fulfilment of which it is not evidence, but trial And
in this Ught, in which it is thus directly contemplated
in the Bible, we should regard a miracle now, which
professed to be the warrant of a Divine command to
perform acts of indiscriminating punishment, and
wholesale slaughter of the innocent and guUty alike.
But if miraculous evidence was properly proof to
the IsraeUtes of a Divine command to exterminate
certain nations, but would not be sufficient proof of
such a command to us now, that must be occasioned
by some difference of conceptions in a former age and
in the present, in consequence of which such a com
mand was adapted for proof by miracles in a former
age, and is not adapted for that proof now ; was not
an incongruous or incredible command to the people
to whom it was given, but would be to us.
One explanation, then, that wiU be given of this
difference wiU be that the Gospel law is a law of love.

86 Exterminating Wars.
and that acts of vengeance and destiuction which
were appropriate in retribution of sin in a less ad
vanced age, and were the natural expression of hostUity
to evil in that age, are whoUy out of place under a
dispensation which enjoins as its leading precepts
charity and resignation, and, instead of resisting evQ,
the bearing all things and the enduring aU things.
When a Samaritan viUage would not receive our Lord,
His disciples, James and John, when they saw this,
said, " Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come
down from heaven, and consume them, even as Ehas
did ? " That was the spirit of the old law. But our
Lord repUed that they were now to be of another
spirit. " He tumed and rebuked them, and said, Te
know not what manner of spirit ye are of; for the
Son of man is not come to destroy men's Uves, but to
save them." ^
But though this is a most important distinction in
the standard of Judaism and of Christianity, it is not
the whole of the distinction between them ; for we
plainly see that the acts to which we refer, — ^the
destruction of whole nations, chUdren included, for
the sins of the adult portion, and the infliction of
death upon whole famiUes for the personal sins of thek
heads, — are not only contrary to the law of love, but
contiary also to our idea of justice. When we com
pare the Gospel era with the condition of the human
mmd antecedent to it, we find that there has been not
only a revelation of the principle of love, but that there
has been also a revelation of the idea of justice too ;
' Luke ix. 54, 55, 56.

Exterminating Wars. 87
that that idea has been developed, sharpened, and
defined in the human mind ; so that the idea of justice
would be now an absolute bar to the execution of
certain proceedings, against which it did not act as
such an absolute barrier in a former age of the world.
The defective sense of justice, then, in those early
ages, arose from the defective sense of individuality.
The idea Of justice could not be complete or exact
before the idea of man was, for justice implies a proper
estimate of the being about whom it relates, and with
whom it deals. But the idea of man, the conception of
human individuaUty, that each man is an independent
being in himself, was only imperfectly embraced in
those ages. Man was regarded as an appendage to
man, to some person or some body, and therefore the
idea of man being defective, the idea of justice was
defective too. Hence arose, then, those monstrous
forms of civil justice in the East, in which the wife
and the chUdren were included in the same punish
ment with the criminal himself, as being part of him.
The idea was not always acted upon, nor did it form
part, as far as one can judge, of the common routine of
justice ; indeed it would have caused the depopulation
of countries if it had ; but it was always at hand to be
brought into use if wanted. The punishment of chil
dren for the sins of the fathers was, we may say,
incorporated into the civU justice of the East, and was
part of its traditional civU code : it was not an every
day process in the courts, but the principle of it existed
in the law, and was resorted to on special occasions,
when a great impression had to be made. Not that

88 Exterminating Wars.
the offences which were selected for the examples of
this mode of retribution were chosen upon any prin
ciple, for they seem to have foUowed the caprice of the
monarch. But they were such as, according to this
irregular standard, were heinous crimes ; and the ap
pUcation of this extreme penalty seems to have carried
the authority and weight of law, and to have been
recognised by custom and popular opinion, and not
to have been a simply arbitrary and tyrannical act
of the monarch. Such was the character of Nebu
chadnezzar's sentence upon all the blasphemers of the
true God, to whom he had, after the miraculous sal
vation of the three servants of God, pronounced his
adhesion ; the sentence, viz., that aU such persons
should "be cut in pieces, and their houses made a
dunghUl;"^ i.e., that their famiUes should perish with
them. Nor, when Darius punished the maUgnant
accusers of Daniel with the very death intended for
the accused, and included their wives and chUdren in it,
does he appear to have done anything more than what
the Oriental code of justice fully sanctioned. It was
the sentence of a monarch who especiaUy respected
law and legal tiadition, and did not make his own will
his rule ; a monarch who had evidently a strong sense
of justice in his nature, a sympathy with the oppressed
and UI used, a respect for holy men, a pious and devout
temper. Nor are these two cases evidently more than
samples of a general and estabUshed method of pumsh-
ment, though it was not an ordinary but an extra
ordinary act of civU justice, regarded perhaps somewhat
^ Daniel iiL 29.

Exterminating Wars. 89
in the same Ught in which our forefathers regarded
attainder. These were the fruits of the idea that one man
belonged to another, was part of another. The human
appurtenances of the man were nobodies in themselves,
they had no individual existence of their own, their
punishment was a shadow as it affected them, be
cause their own nonentity neutralised it ; the person
punished was the hateful criminal himself, who was
destroyed in his chUdren. The guarantee was given
in this extended form of justice that no part of him
escaped. Justice got the whole of him. The victim
in himself, and in aU his members, was crushed and
extinguished. In the age's blindness and confusion ol
ideas, people did not reaUy seem to know where the
exact personality of the criminal was, and where it was
to be got hold of; whether, in the locaUty of himself,
was himself only, or some other person or persons also
as weU. They could not hit the exact mark to their
own satisfaction, so they got into their grasp both the
man himself and every one connected with him, to
make sure. If they did this, if they collected about
the criminal everything that belonged to him — wives,
chUdren, grandchildren, dependants, servants, house
hold, the whole growth of human life about him, and
destroyed it aU, they were certain that they punished
him, and the whole of him. The total of the individual
was there, and justice was consummated.
But, again, this defective idea of human individu
aUty had another result besides that which affected the
personahty of man ; it had an effect upon the sense

90 Exterminating Wars.
of justice itself, as a feeUng of nature ; it let loose
exaggerated and extravagantly developed justice as a
passion, an affection, and an emotion of the mind.
We are accustomed to represent Justice as neutral
and impartial, holding the scales. It is so in the de
partment of evidence, because a criminal is not a
criminal tiU he is proved to be one. But guUt once
proved, and standing in its own colours before us,
justice takes a side; she is a partisan and a foe; she
becomes retributive justice, and cZesiresthe punishment
of guilt. Justice then becomes an appetite and a pas
sion, and not a discriminating principle only. We see
this in the natural and eager interest which the crowd
takes in the solemn proceedings of our courts, — in the
reUsh with which they contemplate the judge in his
chair of state ; confiding in him as the guardian of
innocence and avenger of guUt; and the satisfac- ,
tion with which the final sentence upon crime is re
ceived, resembles the satisfaction of some bodUy want
— hunger, or thirst, or desire for repose. The hold
which reUgion has upon mankind is due in large
measure to the justice of religion. She promises one
day to fulfil the vision, and reaUse the dream in every
simple mind, of a general setting to rights, when every
body wUl have his due. It is evident that justice is a
craving of our nature, and rests in the punishment of
the guilty as an end desirable in itself. It is appeased
when it attains this object, and feels a tormenting void
when it fails of it.
But justice, as an appetite and apassion, is subject
to the same extravagances and excesses to which

Exterminating Wars. 91
passion in general is subject. There is in all passion
an innate tendency to the unreasonable, which breaks
out under peculiar excitements. Even what we caU
sentiment has elements of Mwreason in its way of.
fastening upon things ; — habits, which are reasonable
indeed so far as they are human, but on the other
hand cannot be reconciled with pure reason. What,
e.g., is the whole internal influence of association but a
kind of unreasonableness ? We are more than usuaUy
affected by a particular event on the recurring day of
the year. But why? What has happened ? The earth
has roUed so many times upon its axis. And what has
that to do with the event ? Nothing. We visit the
plojce where some great man was born, or died, or
where he did some notable act. Here Csesar landed,
here Hannibal fought, here Becket died, here Charles V.
retired, here Shakespeare was born. But what has
place to do with the significance of the act or the
suffering, the birth or the death ? Nothing. A man
must be born somewhere, and die somewhere, and act
in some place or other. These are accidents which do
not touch the substance of these events. Are we any
nearer the person or his act because we stand on the
spot where he did it ? No : the person and the place
are divided by an infinite interval from each other ;
yet we treasure these local connections, and feel our
selves placed in a kind of vicinity to an historical per
sonage by entering the house where he was bom.
If quiet sentiment or feeling then has constitu
tional elements of ttwreason in it, what must be the
case with strong passion. ? It is a known characteristic

92 Exterminating Wars.
of passion that it makes objects for itself; that when
natural objects are not at hand on which to expend
itself, it vents itself upon others which it creates for
the occasion. This is a weU-known effect in the case
of anger ; a passionate man, when something has
vexed him, stamps upon the ground, or tears the note
which contains the bad news into shreds, or kicks
away a stone at his feet, as if he would hurt something
or other, even in semblance ; anything does for an
object. " The soul being agitated and discomposed,"
says Montaigne, " is lost in itself if it has not some
thing to encounter, and therefore always requires an
object to aim at and keep it employed. The soul in
the exercise of its passions rather deceives itseff by
creating a false and fantastical subject, even contrary
to its own belief, than not to have something to work
upon. After this manner brute beasts spend theU fury
upon the stone or weapon that has hurt them, and are
ready to tear themselves to pieces for the injury they
have received from another. What causes of the mis
fortunes that befaU us do we not ourselves invent ?
The hair which you tear off by handfuls, and that
bosom which you smite with so much indignation and
cruelty, are no way guilty of the unlucky stroke
which has kUled your dear brother : quarrel with
something else. Livy, speaking of the Eoman army
in Spain, says that for the loss of two brothers, the great
captains Flere omnes repente, et offensare capita;
aU wept and beat their foreheads : but this is a com
mon practice. And the phUosopher Bion said plea
santly of the king who plucked off the hair of his

Exterminating Wars. 93
head for sorrow, ' Does this man think that baldness
is a remedy for grief ? ' Who has not seen gamesters
bite and gnaw their cards, and swallow the dice, in
revenge for the loss of their money ? Xerxes lashed
the sea, and wrote a chaUenge to Mount Athos I
C5rrus set a whole army several days at work to
revenge himself on the river Gnidus for the fright it
had put him in when he was passing over it ; and
Caligula demoUshed a very beautiful palace, for the
confinement his mother had there." ^
We see this spirit exhibited in the funereal cere
monies of ancient times, and the tributes paid to the
memory of the dead. These became in time indeed
formaUties and grand shows, matters of family or
regal pride rather than the heart, yet they had their
origin in real feeling. One can imagine indeed how
an imperious wiU that had never yet been thwarted,
and ruled its own world with an absolute sway, would
feel upon the sudden loss of a beloved favourite —
wife, sister, or friend, — that had been all in aU to it ;
when for the first time it encountered an impassable
barrier, and longed for the irrecoverable. This sense
of void in the sufferer's mind must be reUeved in
some way : he cannot acquiesce in impotence, he must
straggle ; he must reach forward somewhere to supply
the room of what iS gone ; he must do something in
order to hide from himself that he can do nothing.
He vents himself then in a vast expenditure of bar
barous and irrelevant action ; he sacrifices attendants
1 Montaigne's Essays — "How the soul discharges itself on false
objects," etc., etc.

94 Exterminating Wars.
and foUowers at the funeral pUe ; others are unworthy
of life when the loved one has departed ; and life is
the most valuable thing, and therefore a fit treasure
to throw away, and send, as it were, after the dead.
Such a death is to him many deaths; it ought to caust
other deaths ; it ought not to be single and stand
alone. He encloses one death then in a thousand ;
he loads the earth with some gigantic sepulchral
fabric to express the largeness of his loss. He thus
grasps with outstretched hand after some object to
fill the vacuum within ; he beats the air, and his
baulked desire goes off into an immense waste of
energy, which pleases him because it is waste ; it is
expressive on that very account ; his grief indulges in
aU useless things, in vast margins, in excesses, in
superfluities,, and costly emptiness.
Love, grief, and passion, in general being thus
Uable to excesses, justice, as an appetite and passion, '\
is Uable to the same. It tends under excitement to 1
mnke objects for itself. And so Oriental justice did.
It went out into margins, excesses, superfluous sur
plusses of retribution ; other lives went to this ap-?
petite over or above that of the criminal, and justice;
used human beings as a material of expression, as one
would employ a look, a gesture, a motion ; it kiUed a
thousand men merely as a mode of tearing the hair,
and beating the breast. It refused to be curtaUed
and checked, or to stop with the criminal himself ; if
went into a crowd of extras and appendages. It was
this ancient notion of justice that came out on grea|
occasions ; it was then poor work to punish only one

Exterminating Wars. 95
man ; this grand appetite must have more food, more
material ; there was something excessive in the very
nature of justice, which passed beyond the person of
the criminal and claimed aU his family and house ; it
was essentiaUy an overflowing thing, refusing to be
fixed by the boundary of its immediate object, and
pressing onwards by its own force and intensity to
others beyond. Connection by blood with the guUty
agent was enough to reflect his crime ; the passion
was too hotly engaged in the pursuit to distinguish
the nature of the association, and retribution became
extermination. WUd justice thus, like an over
wrought passion, made objects for itself. Had a
designing set of courtiers conspired foully against
Daniel? Let no member of the guUty men escape;
throw them and their wives and chUdren to the Uons.
Has wicked Haman plotted the massacre of the Jews ?
It is not enough that Haman himself should hang on
a gallows fifty cubits high ; let his ten sons hang with
him. Justice was anger, and gave itself all the liber
ties and privileges of the angry man ; the angry man
of the stage, whose idea is that his passion to be real
and honest, thorough and tme, should blunder, should
make mistakes, and hit the wrong man.
Aristotle discusses the passion of anger with his
own characteristic shrewdness and acuteness, and with
as much of the humorist as of the philosopher. He
is indulgent to its mistakes, and tender to its excesses,
treating the affection somewhat as a comic writer
would treat the character of an honest qidck-tempered
man in a play. . Anger with him is the man in the

96 Exterminating Wars.
farce, who is always making blunders, and mistaking
one thing for another, but in a way which provokes- a
smUe rather than indignation. The affection has in
his view an intrinsic proneness to misunderstanding
and misconception, which he pardons, though the in
stances which he gives are those which we would
not so easily condone. " The intemperance of anger," he
says, " is not so bad as that of the appetites ; for anger
appears to hear reason, but to mistake it, Uke a too
quick servant, who, before he has heard out what is
said, runs off, and then makes a mistake in his errand;
or as a dog barks at a knock before he knows whether
it is a friend's. So anger, in consequence of the heat
and quickness of its nature, hearing but not hearing
what is said, goes off to revenge itself; for anger
reasons that this being an insult or a slight, it must
punish the man; whereas appetite rushes by mere
instinct to enjoyment. So that anger foUows reason
in a way, whereas appetite does not ; the one is in a
sort of way conquered by reason, the other by its own
lust. And, moreover, anger is more constitutional than
lust, as one thought who apologised for striking his
father ; for, says he, this man struck his father, and
he his, and this boy here — pointing to him, wUl strike
me when he is grown up ; for it is our nature — avy-
yevh yap r)[uv : and one who was dragged by his son
up to the door of the house, bid him stop there ; for
that he himself had dragged his father so far, but not
farther." ^ If we extricate the philosophy of this pass
age from the humour of it, we obtain a truth which
^ Ethics, 1. vu. c. 6.

Exterminating Wars. 97
bears upon the present subject. Aristotle looks upon
anger as following an apparent law of reason in its
errors and excesses, which seems to itself only its
necessary action. Justice, also, as being anger at
crime, puts its excesses in the same reasonable point
of view to itself; it follows the temper of the general
passion of anger. Justice simply acting as a passion
goes beyond its mark, carries punishment beyond the
guUty person, hits right and left, and brings in a
crowd that had nothing to do with the crime, under
the scope of the sentence ; justice simply as anger
votes blood to be crime, and impUcates a whole family
in the act of its head ; it becomes a systematic blun
derer and mistake-maker, making out one man to be
another, and all upon a kind of plan and a show of
reason to itself, by which it determines that blood
composes a sort of identity, and makes a famUy one
person : an idea which has as its immediate fruit
wholesale judicial slaughter.
But what enabled Oriental justice to run out into
these extravagances as an appetite and passion, was
the defective sense, to begin with, of human indi
viduality. If you have the perfect idea of human
individuaUty — that every man stands on his own
footing, and is a separate person from anybody else,
justice may be a strong passion and enthusiasm, it
may desire all these margins, but it cannot have
them ; it is under checks and conditions ; it cannot
make objects for itself, but must take those which are
made for it ; it cannot pass beyond the real criminal.
It cannot slaughter a multitude of people merely as a

98 Exterminating Wars.
grand piece of extravagance, a substitution for oratory,
a broad margin and surplus of emotion, and a mode
of tearing the hair and beating the breast. If, there
fore, justice as a passion did go out into these excesses,
it was because the accurate idea of human individu
ality was then wanting ; because the idea of man was
not tmly understood. That extravagant and mon
strous form of civU justice, then — the inclusion of the
children in the punishment of the father — was occa
sioned by this defective idea, coupled with the circum
stance that the defect gave scope for the excesses of
justice, regarded as an appetite and passion of our
nature. The spirit which produced this wUd justice
was not a wicked, a murderous, or a cruel spirit ; it
was not deUght in the infliction of pain ; it was not
objectless love of destruction ; it was the undisciplined ;
passion of justice working without the perception of
the limit which man's individuality imposed upon it.
It aimed loosely and confusedly at a high, a good, and
a necessary object — the punishment of crime.
This idea of justice, then, which penetrated the
ancient and especially the Oriental mind, was evi
dently also the idea of the Israelitish people in its
earUer history. What reason, indeed, is there why
the Jewish nation upon such a point, not connected
with the pecuUar object of their revelation, should
not partake of the defective notions of the rest of the
world a;t that time ; why the defective idea of human
individuality, and the judicial standard which sprang
from that root, should not extend to the minds ofthe
sacred people; producing exterminating wars and

Exterminating Wars. 99
wholesale judicial punishments ? When the Divine
command was given to destroy a whole nation, on
account of the wickedness of the great mass in it, and
a whole famUy on account of the sin of the head, these
were in fact judicial proceedings natural to the
Jewish mind, and in accordance with a received
standard of justice. Justice, by means of this release
from the idea of individuality and man's rights, was
set at Uberty to act as a passion ; to punish wholesale,
to slaughter whole nations for the sins of many of the
nation, to extirpate and destroy, upon the mere
ground of connection by blood. The idolatries and
abominations of the Canaanites invited vengeance,
and vengeance did not confine itself to accurate
justice; it expanded into the extravagances of the
unchecked passion of justice, moral in its hatred of
evU, but without clearness, and blind and dim in its
notion of persons.
But there is this great distinction between the
principle of punishment for the father's sins as it was
held by the Jewish people, and the same principle as
it was held in the pagan and general Oriental world —
viz., that in the latter the judicial principle figures as
a part of civU law, coming into operation whenever a
sufficiently important occasion arises. The Persian
monarch flings the famUies of the false accusers into
the lions' den, along vnth the criminals themselves, as
a judicial act of his own, and belonging of right to a
regal tribunal of justice. But in Israel the principle
did not exist as a part of regular law, but only as a
special and extraordinary supplement to law, when God

lOO Exterminating Wars.
himself commanded it. The Jewish law forbade magis
trates to punish the chUdren for the fathers' sins. ' ' The
fathers shaU not be put to death for the chUdren, neither
shaU the chUdren be put to death for the fathers ; every
man shall be put to death for his own sin."^ The punish
ment, then, of the famUy for the sin of the head was
among the Jews extia-legal, and stood upon a religious
ground as the dictation of a special revelation. But
though the Jewish mind was in a higher state than the
ordinary Eastem mind on this subject, as the very fact
of confining this species of justice to Divine command,
and excluding it from a human court and ordinary
law, shows, this retributive principle had stUl a place
in the Jewish mind as an extraordinary mode of
justice, which a special command might rouse from
a dormant state into action in a particular case. It
had a suspended operation, checked by a pecuUar
religious condition. It met the Divine command haff-
way, no prepossession being felt against such a shape
of justice as an extraordinary one ; and it had a con
stant incipient action in the system, though it was
powerless unless it was taken up by a special revela
tion of the Divine wUl. Such was the divided and
modified hold of this ruder form of justice upon the
Jewish mind ; not so strong as its hold upon the
Eastern world generally, in which that form of justice
was a part of regular law, but still enough so to give
such justice a popular naturalness, and remove aU
unfittmgness when there was external evidence of a
Divine command to execute it; and when it came
^ Deut. xxiv. 16.

ExtermiTiating Wars. loi
before them as a grand and majestic act of Him who
ordereth aU things according to His own sovereign will.
And this supplies an answer to a question which
is asked with respect to the need of miraculous inter
position for the sanction of this extraordinary species
of justice. It is said that in ages in which this was
the state of ideas, that is to say, when one man was
in the mind of the age an appendage of another, and
was identified with a parent or ruler in crime, it followed
by natural reason that he should be identified with him
in punishment; and that one of these extraordinary
cases would be wholesale famUy, and the other whole
sale national destruction. What need, therefore, to the
Jews, it is- asked, of any special Divine command, and
with it of miraculous evidence, to warrant such acts,
when this idea of justice existed to begin with in their
minds as a natural idea ? What impediment was there
to their acting upon this idea, without waiting for the
special authorisation ? Why require the sanction of
a miracle for these acts, if the popularly received idea
of justice of itself allowed and sanctioned them ? But
an idea may be held, and yet, with reference to such a
question as this, everjrthing may depend upon the mode
and m^easure in which it is held. Among the Jews '
what was that mode and measure ? That is simply
an historical question. As a matter of fact, in the
Jewish mind this pecuUar principle of justice existed
in a modified and limited form ; ready to be put in
execution upon a special Divine call, but not before.
We have not to examine the state of mind logicaUy,
but to take the fact. As a matter of fact it was a

I02 Exterminating Wars.
special authorisation which put in force this justice
in the case of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, the family
of Achan, the family of Saul, as weU as in the larger
case of the extermination of the Canaanites : an
authorisation through a miracle at the time, or
through an inspired leader. The principle, held in
definitely elsewhere in the early ages of the world,
was held with this distinction by the Jew. But such
a Divine sanction implied miraculous evidence to sup
port it. And thus it was an essential characteristic
of this extraordinary justice under the old dispensa
tion, that it was executed under such miraculous
warrant ; this was a fundamental feature of it, which
entered into the system, and furnished a moral con
dition of it.
But with whatever condition this idea of justice
was held in the Jewish mind, when we have the fact
that it was held, we have the reason why the Divine
commands, of which we have been speaking, were
adapted to man as the agent for their execution then,
and are not adapted now ; and were capable of proof
by the evidence of miracles then, and are not capable
now ; — viz., that the imperfect idea of justice which
then existed in the human mind opposed no resistance to
them on the moral side. Suppose a Divine command,
professing to come to us now upon the evidence of a
miracle, that we were to kiU one man on account of
the crime of another man, a famUy of children on
account of the sin of their father, aU the infants of a
nation on account of the wickedness of. a nation as
a whole ; it is plain that, in the first place, we should

Exterminating Wars. 103
be divided in our minds between two contradictory
evidences, — the evidence of the miracle that such a
command came from God, and the evidence of our sense
of justice that it could not. And is it not also suffi
ciently plain, in the next place, that according to the
Bible's own test of the validity of miraculous evidence,
such evidence could not be valid proof of a command
having come from God when in opposition to our
moral sense ? But then these commands had no
resistance from the moral sense ; they did not look
unnatural to the ancient Jew, they were not foreign
to his standard ; they excited no surprise or perplexity;
they appealed to a genuine but rough idea of justice,
which existed when the longing for retribution upon
crime in the human mind was not checked by the
stiict sense of human individuality. Such commands
were therefore adapted then to miraculous proof;
because such proof, then meeting nothing counter
to it in the human conscience, possessed its natural
weight not counterbalanced or neutralised. Man in
the first ages was identified with some individual or
body external to him, was implicated in its crimes,
and exposed to their punishment; whereas now human
individuaUty is understood, and society is penetrated
with the tme conception of each man as an inde
pendent being, with an existence and rights of his
own.

LECTURE V.
VISITATION OF THE SINS OF THE
FATHERS UPON THE CHILDREN.
WHEN in a later age we have to separate one part
of the Jewish Law from another, the permanent
part from the temporary part, the accommodation to
imperfect morality from the moral truths ; we have
to argue and to lay down some position on the subject
which includes the consequence we want. But in
the actual dispensation of the law ; and when one part
wa^ separating from another by an actual change and
development, no argument was needed on the subject.
The Law naturaUy and of itself sUpped off its incon
gruous matter ; all that was not perfectly holy, pure,
and righteous, did not, ipso facto, belong to the Law, it
was rejected as something that came from another
stock ; and if it had been confounded hitherto with
the Law, it was time that the partition should be made,
and the difference of the two materials revealed. Our
Lord, e.g., was not prevented by His Divine nature
from arguing and showing forth truth by a logical
process ; as when He argued for the resurrection of the
dead from that which was spoken by God — saying, " I

Visitation ofthe Sins of Fathers. 105
am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and
the God of Jacob : God is not the God of the dead
but of the Uving."^ But in the Sermon on the
Mount, which is the great trial of the Law, — the
examination which tests the purity of its different pre
cepts and rules, — there is no argument ; but the alien
parts drop off of themselves, and leave the residuum
pure. The Law tests itself. Does the enUghtened con
science condemn anything it aUows or commands ? By
the simple condemnation of conscience it ceases to
belong to the Law : it goes. "Ye have heard that it
hath been said of old time." AU these precepts were
the litera scripta of the Law ; they are there in black
and white ; statute law, as good as ever was impressed
on any code. But it all goes, from the original assump
tion which overrules every particular statute, that
now nothing but what is perfect is aUowed in morals.
" Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which
is in heaven is perfect." K there is anything which
is a falling short, which goes a certain way but not
the whole way — as in the imperfect law of marriage,
in the imperfect law of love, in a law of retaUation —
it is assumed that the essence ofthe Law is not all this,
and that, on the other hand, what is perfect is the
Law. We know nothing henceforth but this perfect
Law commanding in the conscience.
So of St. Paul. It is remarkable that with all the
imperfections, the crudities, the coarse legislation which
is stamped upon the Law, the Law never figures in
St. Paul's moral estimate except as perfect. "The
1 Matt. xxii. 32.

io6 Visitation of the Sins of
Law is holy ; and the commandment holy, and just,
and good." ^ How is this ? except that ipso facto the
Law parts vpith everything that is imperfect. Nothing
that is not holy can be part of the Law. It is an
axiom which settles everything. We hear nothing now
of the exceptions taken in the Sermon on the Mount
against the fallings short, defects, and inequaUties of the
Mosaic legislation; but that is because these have
already been eliminated ; and because, on that very
account, the pure residuum is constituted the Law, and
everything that is imperfect has ipso facto dropped
off from it'. The Law, then, which is recognised by St.
Paul is the perfect law only. He knows of nothing
else. An imperfect law is an absurdity. The Law
entered that offence might abound ; not to let men off,
and show that they were not sinners because they had
a very easy rule given them. It was absolutely neces
sary, then, that the Law must be pure and perfect.
But how was such a law got, but by the old Law
casting its skin, and coming out in a new and perfect
character as the Law of God, aspiring to the full
spiritual morality? It is to be observed that the only
dispute which engages attention in St. Paul is no dis
pute respecting the moraUty of the Law, — as if it was
doubted whether that morality were quite correct, and
were not clouded by mistakes and lowered by blemishes
and blots, — ^but it is a question only whether that Law
ean be fulfilled, whether the human conscience is able
to satisfy it. The moral demands of the Law are in
satiable, we cannot mount up to this height, Alps on
1 Romans vii. 12.

the Fathers upon the Children. 107
Alps arise, and we are involved in an inextricable
labyrinth wherever we turn ; duties and obligations
beset us with impossible claims, which cannot be
resisted, and yet cannot be cleared. This is the diffi
culty, then, in the doctrinal scheme of St. Paul ; but he
does not think that the Law has blotches and stains ;
there is no apprehension in St. Paul's mind that the
Law is not good enough : the Law is spiritual, but I
am carnal ; for the good that I would I do not, but the
evU that I would not that I do ; the Law is perfect,
but, 'we do not fulfil it. The mistake St. Paul fights
against is not obedience to a carnal law so full of
gross imperfections ; but that of assuming that we do
and can obey a law so essentiaUy insatiable in its
moral claims, and which exceeds and baffles the con
science ; — that we can obey a law so spiritual.
We have then here the quick and summary
process by T<rhich, in the actual emergency, the Law
clears itself — viz., by casting out spontaneously
the objectionable matter, and taking the high ground
that whatever is not self-evidently holy and good
does not belong to the Law. We frame long argu
ments to defend the Law of God from the injustice of
punishing children for the sins of their, fathers, but if
we believe the Sermon on the Mount it is all done with
one word — ^viz. that punishing chUdren for the fathers'
sake cannot belong to the Law of God, because it is
unjust. The Law of God vindicates itself, and its de
fence is self-acting. Thus the argument is the simplest
possible, and its effect is complete. The Law comes to
us, in the first instance, under the most heinous charges;

io8 Visitation of the Sins of
that it enjoins hatred, retaliation, infringements of
the marriage law, and the like ; but all these drop off
from it in a moment upon the principle of the Sermon
on the Mount. The instant that it is perceived that
these are wrong things, these things are seen not to be
in the Law. The true law of God disowns them ; they are
only in it because of the hardness of men's hearts ; i.e.,
they are there because they are in the human heart; the
true site of the evil is in man. And so the punish
ment of one man for the sin of another is, ipso facto,
rejected by the law of justice. EetaUation is also
rejected by the law of love. Both are therefore, ipso
facto, cast out of the law of God. This is — aU of it —
a spontaneous operation; it is a self-acting vindication.
The Law of God clears itself by one act ; and from
being a law charged with gross injustice and poUution,
stands forth in the Ught of a perfect law. The Law is
holy; and the commandment is holy, and just, and good.
This is the answer that St. Paul gives to the charge
that the Law has commanded wrong practices, and
placed itself in the wrong ; the answer that it has not
done so because it is the Law of God.
What the Deity admits into his Law externaUy,
because the hardness of men's hearts obliges it, and
what He admits into it because it is His wiU,.are
things absolutely different. Commands are not , of
Divine obUgation simply because they are externaUy
commands : we, e.g., see commands m Scripture which
plainly disclaim the Divine source. Thus the com
mand to Balaam : which is plainly to say — ^As you
want to go, go ; I wiU not prevent you from taking

the Fathers upon the Children. 109
the course you are bent upon; you have set your
mind upon going with the princes ; take your own way.
So the command of our Lord to Judas : — That thou
doest do quickly. He was commanded now to do the
act, but it was his own act which he was commanded
tjo do. There is a class of commands which, in human
transactions, come under the head of irony, and sig
nify — Now you have been so long a time wanting to
do this, and applying the force of your own wUl to
the attainment of this purpose, — ^now then I wUl join
you, I wUl add my wUl to yours. I tell you to do it.
Do it, and take the consequences of it. The command
is half command and half threat. Had the recipients
of it the sUghtest idea of the danger which reaUy re
sides in such an order, they would dread it more than
the strongest and most forcible resistance ; but instead
of this they catch at it, value it as if it were just the
very liberty that they have longed for ; and swallow
the destructive, and justly destructive, permission.
The Scripture principle thus was laid down that God
commanded according to the state of mind of the per
son ; commanded even wickedness ironicaUy, when the
state of a man's mind was wicked and obstinate in sin.
Is he determined on a covetous seU-aggrandising career?
bid him go with the princes of Moab, Is he eager for
the reward of blood ? tell him to get it quickly. Does
he want to be hardened as Pharaoh did ? harden him.
But a distinction must be drawn between this
class of commands given in judicial anger, — com-
ndands to do wicked and corrupt acts, — and com
mands to do acts of rude goodness consonant to

no Visitation of the Sins of
the imperfect morality of the times. Such com
mands as these are not given in anger, but only in
condescension to the weakness and ignorance of man,
who cannot rise aU at once to the high moral stand
ard. But such commands to do imperfect moral acts
have stUl to be explained, when, in a later age and
with the holiness and justice of the Divine Law fuUy
developed, the rough incipient stages of the Divine
dealings with man come into discussion, and are
scrutinised from a lofty moral standard. It is this
that constitutes the great subject of Scripture criti
cism, and upon which the apologetics of Scripture
itself centre. The apologetics of the Sermon on the
Mount, and the apologetics of St. Paul's Epistles, relate
to the defective element in Scripture, and lay down,
with respect to it, that the Law of God is clear from
the responsibUity of it, because the Law of God never
did enjoin it ; i.e., what was reaUy the Law of God.
The real Law of God was all good : the evU was the
condition of the human mind. The human mind only
admitted good to a certain extent. It was faulty
in the measure of that admission of good, but the
good itself was not the worse ; and the Law of God
itself was cleared.
We see then that the imperfect parts of the Law
slipped off naturally from the old stock, as the Law
entered into an age of higher morals ; the parts relat
ing to marriage, divorce, enmity, retaliation, had been
identified with the Law in the earUer ages, but con
science rejected them as conscience advanced; and
when conscience rejected them, the Law also itself cast

the Fathers upon the Children. in
them off. And thiswas especiaUy the case in the instance
of the law of punishment of chUdren for the sins of
the fathers, laid down in the Second Commandment.
The Second Commandment was explained in such a
way as that the punishment of children for the sins
of the fathers was whoUy relieved from the literal
sense of punishment, and became the inffiction of evil
and pain for another reason than that of punishment.
And this change was by a natural transition in the
ideas of the age. The Law threw off its old Mosaic
character. The idea, i.e., of children being guilty of
their fathers' sins was rejected, and consequently of
punishment implying in its tme sense guilt. With the
idea of guUt that of punishment was also dropped;
and this idea in the Second Commandment, understood
in its first and natural sense, left the Gospel code by
an inevitable separation, — in virtue of the perfection
of the Gospel not being able to bear with it.
But it will be well to explain the mode in which one
interpretation of the Second Commandment has slid
into another, and to elucidate the change which has
come over it more fuUy and accurately.
I have been discussing throughout these Lectures
the Old Testament fact of the Divine punishment of
chUdren for the sins of their fathers ; and I have
treated the fact as an accommodation to a mde and
barbarous, but in its foundation moral, sense of justice
of the day. But now the question may be asked — ^Do
we not admit a law of God's natural providence as
going on now, and as being part of the moral govern
ment of the world, which we caU'V^isiting the sins of

112 Visitation of the Sins of
the fathers upon the children? and admit it not
only as a law accommodated to a moral standard of
an earlier time, but as of force now and always in the
world ? Undoubtedly we do. But this law of Pro
vidence is not to be confounded, as a Une of Divine
action, with the extraordinary modes of proceeding to
which we have been referring. When we speak of
the punishment of children for the sins of the fathers,
as a law of Providence now going on in the world, we
give a judicial name to a course of proceeding which is
not in reaUty judicial ; we employ a phrase for conveni
ence sake, not intending it to be understood literaUy,
as if the chUdren incurred the guUt of the fathers' sin,
and were punished judiciaUy for it. The inffiction of
evil is not in itself punishment ; it is only punishment
when it is inflicted upon men on account of sin. The
destructions of which we have been speaking were
judicial, because they were expressly infficted on
account of sin ; those who would not otherwise have
died were put to death for sin — that of another person ;
the sin of another person was the declared and published
reason for the infliction of death upon them. But the
link which connects the sin of the father with the in
jured condition of tUe chUdren under the law of provi
dence, is not a judicial but a physical one. The one is
the occasion of the other ; but the chUd is not made to
suffer by the Author of nature upon the ground that
his father was a bad man, and that justice requires
the punishment of the son for that fact. The tie
which unites the wickedness of the one with the
suffering of the other, is the tie of material cause and

the Fathers upon the Children. 113
effect. The law of natural providence, then, which we
call the visitation of the sins of the fathers upon the
children requires no moral defence, because it is not a
judicial but only a physical process ; the children are
not punished on account of their fathers' sins, but only
suffer, through the physical medium of those sins, that
temporal loss which God has a right to inflict upon
them through any other medium, without any crimes
of their fathers at aU. But the case is different when,
from the course of God's natural providence, we turn
to those cases in the Old Testament in which the
express force, scope, and reason of judicial punish
ment is given for the destruction of whole families ;
in which that destmction does not take place through
the physical medium of those crimes, but by a
positive sentence of God, inflicted by reason of and
upon the ground of the fathers' sin. Nor are the
instances adduced of visitation of.the fathers' sins
upon the chUdren under the law of natural providence,
precedents to justify real vicarious punishments, as
those instances in Scripture are. The two are not
paraUel cases ; a natural cause is no precedent for a
moral one, a sequence of nature is no paraUel for a
penalty of justice. Nor, when we examine the mean
ing in which the phrase — the punishment of the
chUdren for the sins of their fathers — ^is used in poetry,
in Uterature, in conversation, when allusion is made
to this law of providence, do we find that the popular
meaning and acceptation of the phrase implies any
thing judicial. Nobody means to say that the children
are guUty of the sins of their fathers, and therefore

1 14 Visitation of the Sins of
punished for them, which alone would be a judicial
inffiction. The phrase is used in a liberal sense, viz.,
that the sins of the fathers are the occasion of mis
fortune to the chUdren ; not in the Uteral sense that
misfortune is merited by the chUdren on account of
those sins.
Let us take the cases which are appealed to as
Ulustrations of this law ; they are such as the foUow
ing. A man by a course of sensual dissipation ruins
his bodUy health, and transmits a feeble and sickly
constitution to his children. A man by a course of
reckless extravagance crumbles away his estate, and
bequeaths poverty and straitened circumstances to
his chUdren. A man by a course of criminal acts,
which not only cover him with infamy but perhaps
lead eventuaUy to civil punishment and even to
capital punishment, transmits a degraded name to his
chUdren. A man, from simple carelessness, indolence,
and selfish absorption in his own pleasures, neglects
the education of his children, and thus transmits the
signal misfortune of ignorance, and often, what is
worse than ignorance, a low and coarse standard of
morals to his chUdren. But is there anything in the
Uteral sense judicial, in the mode in which the sin
and the inherited punishment are connected together
m these cases ? That is to say, are the chUdren m
any of these cases punished as deserving such punish
ment because their father was a bad man ? That is
not the idea entertained. The connection between the
father's sin and the chUdren's punishment is not a
moral connection in any of these cases, nor one imply-

the Fathers upon the Children. 115
ing moral responsibility ; it is a simply physical link
which unites the wickedness of the one with the suffer
ing of tho ther. The case is that the father by his
vices produces a certain material condition of affairs,
and that condition of affairs existing, the children have
the disadvantage of it. If the father have squandered
his estate, the chUdren do not inherit it ; the tie which
unites these two facts together is the tie of cause and
effect simply, not the tie of a providential justice
infficting the loss upon the chUdren because \h&j deserve
it. Every event has a cause, and the misfortunes
which happen to us are all caused by something. The
cause of our poverty may be either a father's profusion
or a neighbour's fraud, and the cause of our bad health
may be either an unfortunate accident or an inherited
disease ; we no more merit the inherited disease than
we do the accident, or the inherited poverty than the
fraudulently caused one.
But when the visitation of the sins of the fathers
upon the children is interpreted in the sense of Old
Testament history, we see that it is not in the sense in
which the phrase is used when it figures as a law of
natural providence, and when it is employed in the
cases which have been just referred to. We see that
there, — i.e., when it appUes to the execution of the
extiaordinary sentences in the Old Testament, — it is
not by a mere physical medium that the punishment
is infficted, but by a distinctly judicial medium. A
crime was committed by Achan, and for the crime
which Achan committed the famUy are punished by
death. That is to say, the family are treated as guilty

II 6 Visitation of the Sins of
of the father's sin, and this is the sense in which the
puiUshment of the chUdren for the sins of the fathers
is understood and accepted in the instance of Achan'a
chUdren. Had Achan been smitten with disease, and
had aU that had taken place with respect to the chU
dren been, that they had caught the complaint by
infection and died of it, the result coiUd not possibly
have been represented as a punishment, except in the
sense of an evU which had happened to them through
the physical medium of the father's sin. The father's
death by disease had been a judicial inffiction upon
him indeed, but the death of the chUdren would
have been the physical consequence of his death.
It would not itself have been a judicial punish
ment, because it would have taken place just the same
if the fatal disease of the father had arisen from
any other reason, without any sin to deserve it, and
simply as an occurrence of nature. The disease of the
father would have been simply the physical cause of
the disease of the children, not a moral cause ; — not
the reason of their deserving the infliction of it as a
punishment. But the punishment of the chUdren did
not take place in this way. It was a fresh judicial act
of the Almighty in addition to the act of the punish
ment of the guUty man. The famUy, as distinct from
the consequence of physical law, were punished upon
the ground of their being impUcated in his sin, which
is a moral ground, — a ground of desert.
But this is a totally different Divine act and Divine
mode of procedure from that which takes place under
the head of visiting the sms of the fathers in the

the Fathers upon the Children. 117
course of God's natural providence. The physical
medium of suffering by which the same punishment
which is moraUy the punishment of the father is mate
riaUy, and by way of physical cause and effect, the
punishment of the son, — which is real punishment in
the first step, and is not real punishment in the next, — ,
this goes on every day, goes on now, and is a received
and immediate law of God's natural providence. But
that a chUd should be punished as guilty of an impli
cation in the father's crime, is a conception which does
not belong to the present age of the world, and which
is in complete contiadiction to that idea of human
individuaUty which has estabUshed itself in the human
mind. But because the law of Providence which we call
visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children is not
properly judicial, has it no moral purpose ? It has a
signal one. When we look upon the course of things
in this world, the scene before us is at first aU haze
and confusion, and for a long time we see only an
entangled growth and vast chaos of events, telling,
some one way, some another, and therefore forming an
inexpUcable whole, perplexing us with the difficulty
of extracting any one lesson, drawing any one law, and
anticipating any one issue from it. The mass is full
of intemal discord and contention, which baffles inter
pretation. But by and by, as we look steadUy and
patiently upon this scene of complication, a faint dawn
of interpretative light arises ; the events point in cer
tain directions, and fall into certain main tracks of
design. Laws begin to appear ; and though these laws

II 8 Visitation of the Sins of
themselves by no means perfectly harmonise, but in
their present operation present an appearance of going
different ways ; stUl they extricate the scene from the
thick obscurity which lay upon it. First, there is the
law that on the whole the dispensation favours the
good as regards happiness and satisfaction in Ufe. This
is a law which is obscured by many false Ughts, and
many specious counter facts, but a law which, as our
observation deepens, more and more disengages itself
from misinterpreting and distracting considerations,
and comes clearly out. Another law is the chastise
ment of the good. Another law is the didactic design
of the dispensation, that events are so ordered as to
furnish striking lessons, and to impress deeply upon
us moral and reUgious tmths, — " When thy judgments
are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world wiU leam
righteousness." The course of things in this world is a
great teacher, and the experience of life, when events
are looked at in their designed Ught, is a great spirit-
uaUser of the mind. And, among the modes of teach
ing, one is the sight of the ruinous effect of men's sUis
upon the condition of their famUies and posterity.
The sin is thus held up to the world with a mark upon
it, it is made to fasten on men's eyes, and it is kept
up in recoUection when otherwise it might be for
gotten. Providence, if we may use the expression,
cannot afford to dispense with the ordinary weapons of
instraction which chain the attention of mankind to
the consequences of sin ; thus putting the stamp of evU
upon it, exhibitmg it to the world m a fearful and for
midable Ught, and converting it into a lasting spectacle

the Fathers upon the Children. 119
of disaster and sadness before men's eyes. That the
sins of one generation do issue in pain and loss to
another is observed ; and it makes, and is designed to
make, a certain moral impression upon us. The fact
that sin continues in its effects long after the act itseff,
is didactic, and creates a deep image in men's minds.
We have thus a double aspect of the law of the
Second Commandment, according as we take it in the
sense of the extraordinary Old Testament visitations
of the sins of individuals upon famUies and nations,
which we have discussed ; or according as we take it
in the sense of the law of God's natural providence, so
caUed. If we take it in the sense of these extraordi
nary facts, we understand it then as a law by which
God punishes children judicially and as guilty of the
father's sins. If we take it in the latter sense of
God's natural providence, we do not understand the
law as judicial but as didactic. The law of the Second -
Commandment is promulgated now in our churches as
an existing part of the govemment of God : not as an
obsolete part, gone with the ideas of former days, but
as a present law, working under the present and
Christian dispensation. And we speak of national
judgments, and of punishments of whole populations,
as existing modes of Divine action and as vfhat take
place now. But this is in the sense in which we
understand the law when working as a part of God's
natural providence; that is to say, in a didactic
sense. We do not suppose that the law is judicial,
as punishing the good part of these populations
judicially for the sins of the bad, and as guilty of

I20 Visitation ofthe Sins of
those sins ; but only meaning that in these signal
calamities the order of nature is made subservient to
moral purpose. It is evident, indeed, that the law of
the Second Commandment was relieved of its judicial
sense even while under the Jewish dispensation and
before the close of the Old Testament period. For
Ezekiel understood the Second Commandment in a
sense different from the judicial punishment of one
man for the sins of another, which he expressly de
nounces as derogatory to Divine justice.^ The in
terpretation of an earUer age doubtless did not
distinguish the didactic and judicial senses of the
law of the Second Commandment, but a clearer light
dawned in the page of later prophecy. It was seen
that every man must take upon himself his own indi
vidual acts and deserts, and that justice required that
he should be punished for his own sins only. The
idea of the true individuaUty of man stands out with
conspicuous strength in the teaching of Ezekiel.
Dim and confused in the first ages, the notion of
desert, — ^partly resting on the individual, partly clogged
with the irrelevant associations of blood relationships
and neighbourhood, — struck an uncertain ambigiious
note in man's conscience. But as the law of Sinai
worked in men's minds, it graduaUy developed the
deeper parts of his moral nature ; and the individu
aUty of the human being came out in its true form
and with its moral consequences. The law of the
Second Commandment proves to be a law of God's
natural providence, but no judicial law. God, in the
^ Ezekiel xviii. 2.

the Fathers upon the Children. 121
Second Commandment, declares that " He visits the
sins of the fathers upon the chUdren, unto the third
and fourth generation. ; " but we do not understand
this as meaning that He visits those sins upon them
as being guilty of them. We recite this command
ment in our churches now, but we take it in a sense
which satisfies the terms of it, viz., the physical conse
quences ; which, while they do not prove desert, stUl
answer important didactic purposes. In interpreting
this Second Commandment, the instances which divines
give as paraUel cases to it are not judicial cases of
punishment, but instances out of the course of God's
natural providence, — cases of mere physical suffering
caused by physical laws. " The posterity of a tiaitor,"
says Bishop Taylor, " are made beggars and dishonour
able, his escutcheon is reversed, his arms of honour are
extinguished, the nobleness of his ancestors is forgotten.
.... WhUe men by the characters of infamy are
taught to call that famUy accursed which had so base
a father." ^ (f^ote 3.) " There is no question," says
Bishop Sanderson, " de facto, but so it is : the sins of
the fathers are visited upon the chUdren. . , , As
diseases and infirmities of the body, so, commonly the
abihties and dispositions and tempers of the mind and
affections become hereditary, and, as we say, run in
a blood  But that the chUdren are punished
for the fathers' sins, or indefinitely any one man for
the sins of any other man, it ought to be imputed to
' those sins of the fathers or others, not as to the
causes properly deserving them, but only as occasion-
^ Sermon on the Entail of Curses cut offi

122 Visitaiirm of I&e Sins of
ing those punishments, " ^ Theological writers ivho de
fend the law of the Second Commandment thus appeal
to an existing course of providence as itself affording
instances of such a law ; but the instances to which
they appeal are not instances of judicial infliction,
and do not therefore come up to the justification
of the Second Commandment in that sense, . The
appeal, therefore, to such non-judicial instances in
justification of the Second Commandment implies that
the Second Commandment is not taken in a judicial
sense. The law of visitation of sins in the Second
Commandment is regarded as sufficiently fulfiUed if
God does so connect sin with misery for any wise end
— any purpose which is instructive, though not im
plying anything judicial ; or that God visits the chU
dren in this case as being guUty of the fathers' sins.
Indeed one cannot doubt that the whole class of
extraordinary punishments of nations and famiUes for
the crimes of individuals, in the Old Testament, which
has been discussed in these. Lectures, had a didactic
object in view, as weU as a barbarous and eccentric
judicial object. Those strange and monstrous forms
of civU justice which were incorporated in the regular
practice of the Eastern courts, and in extraordinary
instances in the Jewish, were a sort of actual wUd
justice ; in the first instance designed as a magnifying
and expansion of the really guUty person, but beyond
this aiming at a rough sort of instiuction, at marking
certain crimes by way of warning, and terrifying
the people from the commission of them. It was a
^ Third Serm. ad Pqpulinm.

the Fathers upon the Children. 123
method of teaching, by means of spectacles and scenes
of horror, and the multiplication of the disastrous
effects of crime. It aimed at producing an over
whelming impression, a stunning blow and shock to
subdue the crowd. And, much more than a mere
outbreak of civil justice and the monarch's wUl — often
a mere barbarous and capricious outbreak — did the
divinely commanded scenes of destiuction serve a
didactic object. They impressed upon the minds of
an obdurate people the heinousness of particular sins;
they inspired terror, and compelled them to think
with awe of the offended majesty of God.
And thus we have a double aspect of that extra
ordinary class of Divine commands which have been
considered in these Lectures, according as we regard
them as abnormal and irregular manifestations of
justice, or as r9ugh modes of instructing a barbarous
people. Both designs were doubtless united in the
main basis upon which these anomalous proceed
ings stood, and in the great motive and idea which
originated them. They were rude and extrava
gant forms of justice, but they had also, Uke the
natural law of visitation of fathers' sins in the course
of Divine providence, a didactic design; only the
disastrous consequences of these sins upon the famiUes
of the offenders were produced by a special Divine
command instead of by the course of nature. Didac-
ticaUy it was the same whether the wickedness of a
father transmitted a shortened Ufe to the chUd by a
natural law or by a positive command. Either case
was an instance of the right of the Almighty to in-

124 Visitation of the Sins of
struct by means of terrible events and by the deaths of
His creatures. As the destmction of human Ufe upon
the largest scale is God's every-day act, without an
apparent reason, so it is petfectly consistent that it
should be His act for a reason, the object, viz., of
moral teaching and impression. The extermination
of the Canaanites, and the destmction of the famUies
of Korah, Dathan, and AbUam, of Achan, and of Saul,
were great lessons, and lessons which the great Master
could give by the simple exercise of His rights as the
Lord of human Ufe.
These two aspects, then, of this extiaordinary
class of Divine acts give us the temporary and
accommodated side of the Divine action, which can
not be defended but as an accommodation to the con
ceptions of the day; and, that side of the Divine
action which is permanent and which is continued
now in the ordinary course of Divine providence.
The judicial aspect of these Divine acts was tem
porary and accommodated only, because it was impos
sible reaUy that God should punish chUdren on ac
count of their fathers' sins, and as being guUty of
them, therefore the punishment could not have been,
even at the time of this commandment, i»^c^ judicial
or retributive. But doubtless, among the IsraeUtish
people, — to the popular understanding at the time, —
these visitations were judicial acts of the Deity. Our
interpretation of these Divine acts would thus differ
from the contemporary one ; and they are defended
now upon a different ground from that upon which
they were originaUy accepted. They were accepted

the Fathers upon the Children. 125
at the time as judicial by the enthusiastic but mde
judicial sense of that time ; but to us, who have
advanced upon that idea of justice, and in whose
eyes the right of the individual is sacred, these acts of
God can only be, in their ywcZiaaZ light, accommodated
acts; not real acts expressive of the Divine justice,
but only adapted to the popular idea of justice of that
day. They were real acts, and expressed the real mind
of the Deity, only as acts of instruction. WhUe the
judicial side was an accommodation, the didactic
ground on which they stood was an actual and a real
one, and this has continued to be a visible part of
Divine providence. God cannot punish a man for the
reason of another's sin ; but it is open to God to
inffict death upon his creatures, without a reason, if it
so pleases Him ; and of course for a reason, if it be a
good one ; — ^in order to strike ' wholesome terror, in
order to keep a standing memento, in order to associate
sin vrith a spectacle of horror and destruction. This
is the double aspect of the law of the Second Com
mandment : — to us a law of didactic providence ; but
judicial to an earUer age, which reaUy confused indi-
viduaUties, and identified chUdren with their parents.
A clearer Ught began to dawn on the page of later
prophecy, and when Ezekiel proclaimed a more perfect
idea of the Divine justice-, as checked by the inherent
Umits of human individuaUty and responsibUity, the
whole of the judicial interpretation of the Second
Commandment became necessarUy obsolete.

LECTUR.E VL
JAEL.
IN whatjight would the IsraeUtish nation present
itseff to an ardent and enthusiastic mind in one of
the neighbouring communities — a mind keenly alive to
the horrible atrocities and corruptions of the religion
of the old races, and knowing that the Israelitish in
vader came to displace them, and plant his own stock
in their sjfcead ? That there had been one such person in
this situation, — and that person, Uke Jael, a woman, —
we know ; Eahab, " who perished not with them that
beUeved not," because she had " faith," and saw that
it was God's vrUl that a pure reUgion should cast out
the false ones, and the holy people supplant the old
corrupt nations. In what Ught then would the Jew
ish people appear to a mind of this type ? In the
first place, a whole people worshipping the one invisible
God, under no form, but in His own pure essence,
would without doubt be, as compared with the sur
rounding idolatries, an inexpressibly sublime sight.
Even one tme worshipper in such a situation would
be most remarkable ; such was Abraham : but a nation
worshipping the one Universal Spirit would be a
marveUous and overwhelming contrast. It would
indeed be difficult for us now to form an adequate
conception of the way in which the simple absence of

Jael. 127
idols in the religion of a nation, amid a whole sur
rounding world of idolatry, would strike such a mind ;
the omission would be more speaking than any sign ;
it wotdd rouse the imagination more than the grandest'
spectacle. An idol in truth conceals the Deity, the
absence of it would reveal Him; a wall would be broken
down and veU removed which separated man from
his Maker, who would be first apprehended when He
ceased to be seen, and would sit enthroned in His
very invisibility when the image was gone. There
would be, when the earthly god had disappeared, for
the very first time to human thought really a God in
heaven. The idol is a deadening thing, it assimilates the
worshipper to itself, and converts him into a block of
wood or stone; it materialises his conceptions and clogs
up his sense ; but when the idol is gone he is a living
man again, and again discerns a God. A whole
nation worshipping the true God, and worshipping
Him under no material form, would be thus a most
awakening spectacle to a person of a deep reUgious
spirit in another community, before whose eyes the
sight was brought ; arresting the attention, and
revealing heaven and earth to him in a light in which
he had never before seen them, but simUar to that in
which they stood in the Psalmist's words : — " Con
founded be aU they that worship carved images, and
that delight in vain gods ; worship Rim, all ye gods. —
Clouds and darkness are round about Him, righteous
ness and judgment are the habitation of His seat. — 0
worship the Lord in the beauty of hoUness, let the
whole earth stand in awe of Him."

128 Joel.
Such a nation, again, would present itself to the
mind of a person of this temper almost in the aspect of
a nation of priests. The ancient pagan world laboured
from first to last under the inveterate prejudice that,
whatever enUghtenment individuals here and there
might attain to, the mass must be in the dark, that
tmth was the privUege of the few, and that error and
superstition were the natural inheritance of the vulgar :
but here was a whole nation in possession of the most
sublime esoteric tmth ; a nation worshipping in the
Ught of day that one Supreme Being who was only
known to the hierophant and the phUosopher among
the heathen, and was not worshipped even when
known. Such a people, then, would naturaUy appear
to a kindred spirit in another community in the Ught
of a sacred people, a nation of priests, with whom that
truth was public property which was with the heathen
the secret of the initiated class. " All thy chUdren
shall be taught of the Lord." ^ " Open ye the gates, that
the righteous nation which keepeth the tiuth may
enter in." ^ The actual history of the IsraeUtes was
indeed a great falling short of the model ; still this was
the creed and worship of the nation. And therefore
Balaam had stood gazing on in involuntary ecstasy
of admiration and awe upon that nation, and had said,
" From the top ofthe rocks I see him, and from the hiUs
I behold him : lo, the people shall dweU alone, andshaU
not be reckoned among the nations." * Nor even was
the creed of the crowd, however fluctuating with the
tide of popular caprice and shaken by sudden fancies,
^ Isaiah Uv. 13. ^ xxvi 2. ' Numb, xxiii. 9.

Jael. 129
a dead creed. On the contrary, it inspired the people
with courage, it fiUed them with the certainty of
victory, and with the sense of complete superiority to
their enemies. " Thou shalt not be affrighted at them:
for the Lord thy God is among you, a mighty God
and terrible." ^
Let us suppose again such a kindred spirit
in another community looking on ; and the civil
constitution of Israel presents itself to him in a
remarkable and lofty light, as weU as its religious
worship. The nations of the surrounding heathen
world had no corporate life, and seemed only to exist
for the sake of swelling ¦ the pride and feeding the
rapacity of the fierce monarchs at their head. The
people had no rights, and were only used as the tools
of rapine and conquest ; which issued again in the fall
of the pettier princes to aggrandise some stronger
one. " Threescore and ten kings," said Adoni-bezek,
"having their thumbs and their great toes cut off,
gathered their meat under my table." ^ Jabin^ had an
extent of warlike equipment which implied the whole
sale robbery and oppression even of his own subjects.
Nations thus existed Ui order to raise up some horrible
embodiment of barbarous pride, and exalt some one
man above his feUows, to deUght in the mere savage
exercise of power. But Israel, as a civil community,
presented a very different sight. It was, in the first
place, without that type of pride, the Eastern king.
No barbarous court, with its tyranny, cruelties, and
coarse pomp and show, impersonated the nation,
^ Deut. vii. 21. ^ Judges i. 7. ' Ibid. ir. 3.

130 Joel.
representing it in its very worst .aspect. The govern
ment was a declared theocracy, exalting God and
keeping down man. And it may be added that even
in later times, when a king had appeared in Israel, he
was still a king under a theocracy,^ which latter was
only modified by the kingly office, and stUl continued
by the mouth of prophecy to direct it : he was not a
king upon the barbarous model. Israel thus appeared
in the light of a free community, which existed for the
good of all its members ; this was a striking contrast
to every other national constitution in the world And
its laws spoke in the same direction. Though defec
tive upon a modern Christian standard, they main
tained justice and human rights. They involved the
great principle of public good as the end and object
of the state, in distinction from human greatness and
power. The whole career, again, of the nation, and the
striking events connected with it, would tend to im
press that kindred spirit whom we have been supposing
to look on dh extra, with a strong idea of the high
destiny of such a people. The Exodus was a great
reUgious migration, undertaken by the nation in order
to release itself from a religious as well as earthly
servitude. Both chains were fast tightening about it.
The religion could not have free exercise under such a
yoke, — that room and action which were essential to
its Ufe, and without which it only existed as a sup
pressed tradition, tending to die out : — that necessary
1 Warburton's Divine Legation, Book v. sect. iii. Davison on Pro
phecy, p. 202, ed. 1845.

Joel. 131
field for itself which was claimed in the Divine com
mand to Pharaoh : " Let my people go, that they may
serve me in the wUderness."^ The wandering in the
wUderness was a period of reUgious trial, when the
privations of a hard life were so great as almost to
break down the spirit of the people, and tempt them
even to a return to Egypt. But the trial, though with
many intervening lapses, being borne, the nation was
exhibited in a stiU higher light. The Eevelation of the
Law again, made in the wonderful way so suitable to
that stage of probation, was an event which laid the
foundation of the nation deep ; gave its religion the
fixity of a formal institution, moulded it for futurity,
and stamped its destiny the more plainly on its fore
head. The march out of the wUderness, through
opposing nations into Canaan, manifested the courage
of faith, and the inspiration with which Israel fought
when he felt the presence of God. The entrance into
Canaan, with the ark of the covenant going before
and heading the procession of the tribes, was a solemn
seizure of the country in the name of God. It was
the inauguration of a religious invasion, — a holy war.
" Ye shaU destroy their altars, and break down their
images, and cut down their groves, and burn their
graven images with fire."^ Thenceforth Israel fought
not against man only, but against idolatry, and for the
true reUgion.
Let us imagine, then, all these aspects of the Jewish
people present to the person whom we have been
supposing ; together, moreover, with the knowledge that
1 Exod. vii. 16. ^ Deut. vii. 5.

132 Jael.
this people professed to be the receptacle of a special
Divine promise, which gave them an inalienable right
to the land of Canaan. And let Jael be this person.
The war then — for this was only a later stage of the
war of invasion — is raging between the invader and
the idolatrous and infamous Canaanite. She beheves
that Israel represents the cause of truth and righteous
ness in the world, and that the Canaanite represents
the cause of evil. She believes that the Canaanitish
rule is a curse, a scandal which cries aloud for removal;
and that it is the design of an avenging and a com
passionate Providence that this plague should be ex
tinguished. . And now, it would appear, is the very
time that God has chosen for the execution of this
purpose. For what is the situation of affairs ? A
Divine command has come to Deborah to make war
upon Jabin and the Canaanites. So extraordinary a
fact as a woman rising up to rouse the spirit of
Israel to a war, and caUing together an army to
fight the Canaanites, must show the intention of Pro
vidence ; and that she had a mission for this object.
Under this belief — that a Divine decree had gone
forth for the destruction of Sisera and his army —
a whole Israelitish ?xmy had coUected, the land had
been stirred from one end to the other,/ the peace
ful pursuits of the population had been abandoned for
war, preparations had been made, a mUitary leader
to .assist the prophetess had also been appointed,
and a battle had been fought. The Divine command
then could be no secret ; it had been the warrant for
raising an army ; and had had a pubUc result. Why

Jael 133
then should not Jael have known of it, and believed
it ? And if so, did not the knowledge of it, and belief
in it, put her under the same obligation under which
it put the Israelites, tq^ obey and execute it ? That
this command was limited to the Israelites, and was
not a warrant to any one who knew of and believed in
it, would be a gratuitous assumption. Jael knew that
God had crowned the courageous effort of Israel
with success, a great battle had been won ; and now
the flying-Ganaanite leader is brought by an apparent
chance into her very tent ; he is in her power, and she
can " bruise the head" of the corrupt race, and destroy
the Canaanites in their chief. She immediately pro
nounces it to be an opportunity put in her way by
Providence, — that Providence which plainly designed
that &J.S sacred race should possess the land in the place
of the old stock. ' She kiUs Sisera as an enemy of God.
Let us go a little further back, and place before
ourselves the general situation of the Israelites in
the promised land at this time. The extirpation of
the old Canaanitish stock was the original and funda
mental law ofthe whole settlement of Israel in Canaan.
This had been interrupted and delayed, but it still
continued to be the law of settlenient ; and the con
sequence was that any war which broke out with the
Canaanitish people stiU continuing in the coupitry,
became immediately by this traditionary law a war of
extermination. Even wars of self-defence became by this
necessary interpretation wars of reUgious extermina
tion.^ As soon as any war arose against a nation within
1 Exod. xxiii. 31 ; Deut. vii. 16.

134 Jc^l-
the borders of the promised land, "instead of accepting
thfem as subjects by treaty," says Michaelis, "or even
taking them for slaves .... the natural consequence
of a war carried on by a sovereign for the sake of acquir
ing new subjects, .... the destruction of the inhabit
ants was the primary condition 'of conquest." '^ " To
the Canaanites no terms were to be offered: their cities
were not even summoned to surrender : no capitula
tion was to be granted (for this is the meaning of the
Hebrew word to make a covenant), but they were
to be destroyed by the sword ; so that these Ulegal
possessors of Palestine, to save their Uves and move
ables, had no altemative left, but to abandon the
country before the Israelites approached."^
The complete execution indeed of this fundamental
law was long suspended. Though it was now more
than a century since the entrance under Joshua, the
country was very imperfectly occupied, and the old
inhabitants were stUl in possession of some of the most
important portions. It was as yet only a mixed and
divided occupation. " The conquest was over," says
Dr. Stanley, "but the upheaving of the conquered
population still continued. The ancient inhabitants,
Uke the Saxdns under the Normans, stUl retained their
hold on large tracts and on important positions through
out the country." ^ This delay in the execution of the
fundamental law of Israel's settlement in Canaan had
been indeed designed by God — the reason given being,
" lest," in the too sudden extermination of the old in-
¦¦ Michaelis" Commentaries on the LaiJis of Moses, Book. ii. Art. 28.
" Ibid. Art. 62. 3 Lectures on the Jewish Ohurch, p. 287,

Jael. 135
habitants, "the beasts of the field increase upon them;" ^
but it had also been prolonged beyond its due time by
the sin of the people, "in making leagues with the
inhabitants of the land,"^ — in voluntarily coming
to terms with the old races, and tieating the Canaanites,
upon whom a Divine curse had been laid, upon the
footing of ordinary nations with whom they might
live on friendly terms. They were to keep them at
arm's length : it was not fitting that the destined de
stroyer should be Uving on social terms with the doomed
people, and the executor of Divine justice be, in the
interim, friends with the criminal. He was to be
faithful to the solemnity of his mission, and not to
trifle with it.^ But this rule had been neglected, and
the punishment had been a postponement of the full
occupation of the land. The execution, however, of
the fundamental law of extirpation was only sus
pended all this time; the original command made
allowance for delay : * this whole period was only one
prolonged invasion.
This posture of things gave a particular character
to the Israelitish wars of independence, of which the
war of Deborah against Jabin, king of Canaan, was
one. These were in fact wars of aggression and exter
mination as weU as of self-defence. As soon as any
war arose against a nation within the borders of the
promised land — though it might be a war of resistance
to begin with, and to shake off some tyrant's yoke —
once begun and going on, it was a war of extermi-
1 Exod. xxiii. 29, 30 ; Deut. vU. 22. ^ Judges ii. 1, 2, 3.
8 Exod. xxiii. 21 ; Judges ii. 1, 2, 3. * Deut. vu. 22, 23, 24.

1 36 Joel.
nation, proceeding upon the fundamental law of the
Canaanitish settlement, which was the law of exter
mination. The people must be dispossessed some time,
and now was the time : — now that a war had broken
out ; this was the direction which Israel was bound
to give to the war. He might have upon his bor
ders for years a Canaanite kingdom, too formidable
to attack; but if this power attacked him, and
stUl more, if the attack was successful, and the
galling and intolerable servitude which foUowed it
compeUed him to rebel — in that case Israel being
precipitated by events into a death straggle with a
people whom he had been expressly commanded to
destroy, now was the time when he was distinctly
placed under an obUgation to execute this command,
and to destroy this people. Indeed the tyranny of '
the Canaanites, and their success at times in dragging
Israel under their yoke, became in this way the means
by which he was roused to the ultimate conquest of
the country. Had he been let alone, he might have
rested ; and after the first irruption was over, the
newcomer might have faUen back into quiet habits;
but he was goaded to conquest by oppression and
subjugation, and in rebeUion against tyranny he
became the executor of the original law of extir
pation. To retum to the particular war with which We are
now concemed. " The Lord," it is said, " sold the chU
dren of Israel into the hand of Jabin, king of Canaan."
The kmgdom of Jabm is here called " Canaan " in a
local sense, which is probably, however, connected

Jael. 137
with some early supremacy of this particular northern
kingdom over the whole of Canaan in the large sense.
" It was a tradition," says Dr. Stanley, " floating in the
GentUe world, that, at the time of the irruption of
Israel, the Canaanites were under the dominion of a
single king. This is inconsistent with the number of
chiefs who appear in the Book of Joshua. But there
was one such, who appears in the final struggle, in
conformity with the Phoenician version of the event.
High up in the north was the fortress of Hazor ;
and in early times the king who reigned there had
been regarded as the head of the others. He bore the-
hereditary name of Jabin or ' the Wise,' and his title
indicated his supremacy over the whole country. . . ,
It was under his auspices [the writer is speaking of
Joshua's invasion] that the final gathering of the
Canaanite race came to pass. Pound him were
assembled the heads of aU the tribes who had not yet
faUen under Joshua's sword, "^ The northern kingdom
of " Canaan" kept up stUl — in Deborah's time — some
of its early suzerainty, and was able to enUst the
services of various minor kings in the present con
test, "The kings came and fought, then fought
the kings of Canaan in Taanach by the waters of
Megiddo."^ The kingdom of Jabin, then, or the northern king
dom of "Canaan," was within the confines of the
promised land ; and the territories which composed it
had been appropriated, at the partition under Joshua,
to the tribes of Zebulun and NaphtaU, The capital,
1 Lectures on the Jeimsh Church, p. 258. ^ Judges v. 19.

138 Jael.
Hazor, was within the limits of NaphtaU.^ But
neither of these tribes had ejected the old inhabitants.
" Zebulun, we are told in the first chapter of Judges,
did not drive out the inhabitants of Kitron, etc., but
the Canaanites . . . dwelt among them. . . . Neither
did NaphtaU drive out the inhabitants of Beth-shemesh,
. . . but he dwelt among the Canaanites."^ The
kingdom of " Canaan," indeed, as we have seen, had
signaUy recovered itself after the blow of Joshua's
victory; had regained even part of its original
supremacy, and, reversing the position of things, had
subjugated Israel.
The war against Jabin, king of Canaan, then, when
it had once arisen, was, according to the original terms
of the Israelitish invasion and the very law of Israel's
settlement in Canaan, a war of extermination as weU.
as of independence. The Divine command for the
destruction of the Canaanites was still in full force,
only awaiting proper and suitable occasions for the
execution of it. This was such an occasion. The war
once begun and raging, had an extirpating direction
given to it by the force of that statute, Jabin's king
dom occupied space which was wanted, which was
part of the Israelitish map, which had been already
assigned, in the distribution, to particular tribes. It
must therefore be overthrown, and the ground cleared
for Israelitish possession. Later in history indeed, when
the IsraeUtish dominion had been estabUshed, and the
Divine purpose answered, this command to extirpate
may have received a qualification such as justified
1 Joshua xix. 36. 2 Judges i. 30, 33.

Joel. 139
the toleration of the Jebusites as residents in the
country, when Jerusalem was taken by David;
but at the time of the war with Jabin, Israel was
struggling for his very existence in the country,
and the Divine decree of destruction had as much
political necessity on its side as in the days of
Joshua, The war with Jabin then had been undertaken at the
express command of God, given on that occasion, and
under the direction of an inspired person — Deborah the
prophetess — who "judged Israel at that time," To a
cursory glance the "judges" of Israel might look Uke
civil rulers raised up from time to time to govern and
admiiUster justice in a period of anarchy, when no
settled govemment existed in the country. But this
would not be a trae view of the judge's office, Israel
was not without a settled government all this time.
There was a code of law, and there were constituted
authorities ; there was what may be called a civU con
stitution, which was working aU this time, even in
the intervals between the judges; so that the civil
government of the people did not depend on them.
Michaelis constructs out of the Scripture materials a
sketch of what this polity was ; to which he adds the
following statement : — " It wiU now," he says, " be
easUy conceivable how the Israelitish state might have
subsisted,not only without a king, but even, occasionaUy,
without that magistrate who was denominated d, judge,
although we read of no supreme councU of the nation
Every tiibe had always its own chief magistrate;
subordinate to whom, again, were the heads of famUies

140 Jael.
and if there was no general ruler of the whole people,
there were yet twelve lesser commonwealths, who, in
certain cases, united together, and whose general conven
tion would take measures for their common interest."^
The civU government of the IsraeUtes being thus pro
vided for by this polity, the Judge when he rose up
was an extraordinary officer to meet some great
emergency from without, and to rescue Israel from
foreign foes. Such were Othniel, Ehud, Shamgar,
Gideon, Jephthah, Samson. Deborah indeed " dwelt
under the palm tree between Eamah and Bethel: and
the children of Israel came up to her for judgment;"^
but her chief mission was evidently military, — ^to save
Israel from subjugation by Jabin. She was raised up
in a time of civU disorder ; but in fact a judge was
a mUitary functionary rather than a civil one. The
appearance of a Judge was thus of itself a war
portent, heralding a great national caU to arms.
And in the present case the commission given to
the Judge and executed by the people was not
only to resist and repel, but to " destroy." " 1
will deUver Sisera with his chariots and his mul
titude into thine hand." " The hand of the chU
dren of Israel prospered, and prevailed against Jabin
the king of Canaan, untU they had destroyed Jabin,
king of Cianaan." It was the language of the
original invasion. Moses had predicted a pause and
a delay in the conquest, but also a repetition of the
work of destruction after that delay. " Thou mayest
* Commentaries on Lates of Moses, Book ii. Art. 46.
^ Judges iv. 5.

fael. 141
not consume them at once "'• — but stUl " The Loj-d thy
God shall deliver them unto thee, and shall destroy
them with a mighty destruction. And he shaU deUver
their kings into thine hand, and thou shalt destroy
their name from under heaven."^
Now, then, to revert to the original question. We
cannot but assume as the most natural supposition,
that Jael is weU acquainted with the general state of
the case, i.e., that a Divine command has gone forth
for the destruction of Sisera and his host. In that
case she has as much right" to kiU Sisera as Deborah
herself has to do so ; she is as- much even under an
obUgation to do so as Deborah herself. She is obvi
ously acting, to begin with, under the impulse of that
enthusiastic movement, whatever it was, which has
taken possession ofthe IsraeUtes, and of which Deborah
is the head. As women there is a common type in
her and in Deborah. It is a mark of a great
national revolution and cUmax of feeling when women
go out of their way to fight and take part in deeds of
violence like men. Jael and Deborah were both in
this current, though in very unequal situations, — ^the
one as leader of the war, the other only as performing
one strong act in it. StiU they are obviously carried
away by one common enthusiasm, and have apparently
one common access to the Divine commands with
respect to the Canaanites. One woman inoculates the
other with a common patriotism and a common
enmity. We meet in Scripture with other outside
witnesses to the call of the Jewish people to occupy
1 Deut. vit 22. " Deut. vii 23, 24.

142 Jael.
Canaan, and dispossess the old inhabitants. Eahab
was such a witness ; she recognised the right of the
invaders to the country. Why ? Because she beUeved
in the Divine promise to the chosen people. Je^ro
was such a witness, Balaam was such a witness, Caleb
was such a witness. This was outside faith. ~7ael
then beUeved in the Divine promise to the Jewish
people, upon which its right to Canaan and to extir
pate its population was founded.
It is too commonly assumed, in comments upon
the act of Jael, that Jael herself was altogether
removed from the religious influences and motives
of this extraordinary occasion ; that she was an
isolated person in this whole tiansaction, and that
she kUled Sisera on a sudden impulse simply, with
out any participation in the Israelitish beUef and
mission. But this is certainly contrary to the whole
look of the transaction, which is aU the other way.
There is an extraordinary stir, the land is moved, and
a large part of Israel, near where Jael resides, is
roused and in arms. The occasion of this stir is the
Divine command. Sisera, routed in battle, flies from
the IsraeUtish spears into Jael's tent, and the rest
follows. Jael, after the deed, comes out to meet the
IsraeUtish general, who is in pursuit of Sisera, and
teUs him that she has forestalled him. Deborah
praises her deed. The whole look of things is that
Jael is one with Israel throughout, that she acts upon
the impulse which has roused Israel. Deborah extols
her just as if she were a sister in the faith.
And we must take into account here that Jael was

Jael. 143
not a Canaanitish woman. Had she been, indeed, she
might stUl have believed in the mission of the chosen
people, as Eahab did (f^ote 4) , and have been an IsraeUte
in faith. But Jael was of the famUy of the Kenites — a
family founded by Jethro, the father-in-law of Moses,
connected by affinity with Israel, foUowers ofthe Israel
itish migration, and moreover, hereditary worshippers
of the true God. She was of the same stock with one
who, in a later age, came to meet Jehu as he drove in
his chariot to Samaria to fulfil his purpose of destroy
ing the worshippers of Baal. "HeUghted on Jehona
dab the son of Eechab coming to meet him : and he
saluted him, and said to him. Is thine heart right,
as my heart is with thy heart ? And Jehonadab
answered. It is. If it be, give me thine hand. And
he gave him his hand ; and he took him up to him
into the chariot."^ A later Kenite thus superin
tended a slaughter of Israelitish idolaters, not accom
phshed without some deception, as an^earUer Kenite
had also, not without the same tactics, slain the leader
of the idolatious Canaanites. Jael was thus by birth
an Israelite in faith and worship. Her tribe had, as
some commentators suppose, the position of prose
lytes, worshipping according to the Mosaic Law, and
only differing from Israel in not having a title to the
promised land, which was confined to the blood of
Abraham. They were, at any rate, true worshippers
of the one God. It is true that the Kenites as a
body, kept aloof from this war, and were at peace
with Jabin ; but why may not Jael have been a be-
1 2 Kings X. 1 5.

144 Jael.
Uever in heart in Deborah's mission among her own
people, and in their eyes an enthusiast? Would
Deborah have acknowledged the right of a house thus
connected with Israel to make an engagement of its
own with a public enemy, and to dictate an abstinence
from perfect partisanship with Israel to Jael ? Was it
at aU of the character of the Divine dispensation under
which Deborah and Jael both lived to aUow of such
an inference ? It is indeed- the great blot upon her
act, according to any modern standard of international
relations, that her tent was, by the agreement of
her own tribe and her husband at its head, estab
lished as a rightful shelter for Sisera ; and that Sisera
could not but have supposed that he was protected
against such a snare as was spread for him on that
occasion. But there can be no doubt that the dis
pensation of that day completely overrode any scruple
of international law. Scripture itself challenges the
validity of the objection by the bold admission that
" there was peace between Jabin the king of Hazor
and the house of Heber the Kenite." An express
command of God supersedes any human arrangement
or contract. And Jael's reUgion is a matter be
tween God and her own heart, with which she does
not mean state law to interfere. It is an early case
of religious independence of mind.
It ought to be noted lastly, in forming Our esti
mate of Jael's act, who the person she put, to death
was. He was not a common Canaanite, but the
Canaanitish general and leader, especially the mark
of the Divine wrath ; and against whom principaUy,

Jael. 145
as the representative of the Canaanitish power, the
thunderbolt was aimed and the decree of destruc
tion sent forth — " I wiU deUver him into thine
hand." He was not even an ordinary Canaanitish
leader. There is evidently something extraordinary
about this man — Sisera. It must strike any reader as
remarkable that we hear nothing about Jabin person
ally in this war. He takes no part, he does not ap
pear on the scene, and is a cypher ; while the man who
does aU and wields the whole force of the Canaanitish
kingdom is, as far as appearance goes, a private person,
who has risen to extraordinary power and to the head
of the army. Jabin is a nullity ; Jabin's general is
everything. This is an unusual spectacle in primitive
times. In the wars of the Old Testament, and indeed
of aU early history, the king always heads his own
army. Chederlaomar and the kings with him lead their
own armies ; the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah and
their alUes lead theirs; the four kings who unite
against Joshua lead theirs. Pharaoh himself pursues
the IsraeUtes to the Eed Sea. Much later in sacred
history the kings of Israel and Judah always' head
their own armies. The kings of Syria, Assyria, and
Babylon, do the same. David had his "captain of
the host " under him, and entmsted some wars prac
tically to him. Joab was sent against Eabbah ;^ and
Joab, Abishai, and Ittai were sent to suppress Absa
lom's rebelUon. But custom stiU enforced the pre
sence of the king at the head of his troops sooner or
later in the expedition. David was summoned to
^ 2 Sam. xi. 1.
L

146 Jael.
Eabbah before it was taken; and only the pressing and
affectionate dissuasion of his subjects induced him to
depart from custom and stay away from the expedi
tion against Absalom, when he had said — "I wUl
surely go forth with you myself."^ Sennacherib,
though he sent officers in advance " with a great host"
to Jerusalem to threaten the city, headed the expedi
tion against it.^
In the Homeric age the king always leads his
own army. In later ages, when war became more
of a science, the office of general sometimes devolved
upon the great professional soldier, and was de
tached from the monarch, but the king is his own
general always in times long posterior to the days of
the Judges. When, then, in the war with Jabin all
primitive rule is broken, and a general who is not the
king heads the army; when Jabin is in the background
and Sisera is the great man, it is natural to suppose
that such a general was no common man ; that we have
in him a person of commanding mind, who has risen
by the force of his character to the head of affairs, and
contrived to collect all the Canaanitish spirit and all
the strength and the resources of the Canaanitish
kingdom around him. Such men do rise up in diffi
cult times, and become the representatives and the
impersonations of the race cr nation which they head.
The^very settlement of Israel as a conqueror in Pales
tine placed, of itself, the Canaanitish remainder in
imminent danger ; the invader had one object before
him, which rested in his beUef upon a Divine promise,
1 2 Sam. xviu. 2. 23 Kings xix. 36.

Jael. i^y
the same which had inspired the first invasion. He
would evidently drive out the CanaaiUte, if the Ca
naanite did not crush him. The kingdom of Jabin, in
fighting for the conquest of Israel, fought for its own
existence, and such a juncture is apt to call up a great
and leading mind to the head. Sisera would thus be,
by no unnatural interpretation of the facts before us,
the very life and soul of the Canaanitish kingdom; and
if his whole army perished and he escaped, " the snake
was scotched, not kiUed." A great man has recovered
himself many a time after complete defeat, and after
losing one army raised another. You are not safe
whUe such a foe is aUve, and the one mind which
animates, inspirits, and directs a nation which is your
deadly enemy, is left to it. But if Sisera was such a
ruling spirit and the prime mover of the war, the
Divine decree of .destruction, which had gone forth
against the Canaanitish host generaUy, appUed with a
hundredfold stiength to him : and Jael, if she beUeved
in that decree, would think that this, if any, was a case
in which it should be executed. Was the inferior mass
,to be slaughtered, and was the arch-enemy to escape?
If Sisera was the great man on the Canaanitish side,
this consideration heightens the enormous responsi
bUity which the sudden appearance of Sisera at Jael's
tent door throws upon her. ShaU she not at once
complete the rescue of Israel by killing Sisera ? Or
shall she give way to a scruple and save him ? In
this case she sends Sisera back to his own country to
take' again the part of leader of the Canaanites, and
collect chariots and horsemen for another invasion.

148 Jael.
He has another chance given him. It is impossible to
tell what a great man may do if he has this other chance
given him. She must be either treacherous to Israel,
then, or tieacherous to Sisera ; she must act the friendly
part to Israel, and consummate the rescue which has
begun, by the death of the great enemy; or by spar
ing him reserve a contest for another day, with
perhaps a different result. It would be difficult to
conceive that Jael's feeUngs, after sending Sisera back
again to Hazor to construct another war of invasion,
would not haye been the consciousness that she had
been guUty of a great piece of treachery to a sacred
cause, and a sacred nation. This was the only alter
native which was open to Jael, and it would seem to
have come upon her all at once, and with a short time
to decide it. Sisera himself, by simjply appearing on
the scene and presenting himself to Jael, placed her in
an enormous difficulty ; for either she must give up
Israel by taking part vdth its great enemy, or give up
him. She decides that the real rescue of Israel
requires the death of Sisera. St. Augustine's sup
position, that Jael had a special revelation made
to her, upon which she acted when she slew Sisera,
is a gratuitous one. But it is not at aU necessary
to resort to such a conjecture in order to put Jael
in the situation of an authorised executor of a Divine
command. This, then, is the explanation of the act of Jael,
viz., that it was done in obedience to a Diviije com
mand, not communicated specially to her, but which
had been ¦ made pubUc, and acted upon by the

Jael. 149
Israelites, and of which she would have the same evi
dence that they had. For Israel could not be the only
authorised executor of such a command. The know
ledge of it would in itself confer the authority, nay,
lay the obligation, to put it into effect. It is most
important, with reference to objectors, to remark
upon the history of Jael's act that this account is
evidently a fragment. By a fragment I mean that it
is an incomplete Statement of the transaction to which
it relates ; and wants filUng up in order to make it a
whole and complete account. The story as thus given
does not explain itself, because no reason and motive are
assigned to the act, so that that which is necessary to
the understanding of any human action whatever,
and still more of so extraordinary an act as this, has
to be suppUed. We are told nothing of the mind of
the agent in this very brief statement, which is intro
duced with the greatest abruptness, without any intro
duction, and without any refiection upon it afterwards.
It is not, however, sufficiently observed generally that
the account of Jael's act is thus incomplete. People
accept the short abrupt statement as if it were a whole.
A man suddenly enters her tent ; she welcomes him
and feeds him; he faUs asleep, and she kills him.
It is supposed that he was an enemy, but how and
in what sense is not said. Here is a gap.
The great error in the treatment of the act of
Jael has been looking at it without the consideration
of this gap, and apart from aU those surrounding
circumstances which so evidently affix the character
and the motive to the act, and give it its true .inter-

1 50 . Jael.
pretation. There is a whole extraordinary and ex
ceptional state of things existing at the time, and a
peculiar law is in course of execution against the
Canaanites. Jael's act does not stand by itseff,'
but has relation to this whole state of ., things. It
takes place in the thick of it, and is part of the
whole action which rises up under a pecuUar, pressing
dispensation. If that whole action is right, and if the
e?:terminating war is justified by the Divine com
mand, Jael's act comes under the general head of this
war and this justification. It is done under the im
pulse of the whole movement, and under the sanction
of the general anathema which aUowed no rights to
the Canaanites, and treated nothing as due to an out
lawed race. It was done in execution of the exter
minating sentence applying to the nation, nor can it
be convicted as wrong if the rest of the war was right.
It must be noted, however, with respect to such
an act as Jael's, that, no explanation can do away
with those repulsive features of it whieh result from
its colUsion with ordinary rules of conduct. If the
latter are overridden legitimately, they stUl are over
ridden; if certain natural feeUngs are justffiably
violated, the violation stUl remains : though the act
be under the circumstances defensible, this discord
continues. Nor does this consequence go, even ff
the reason be satisfied ; but, though the deed be in
spired by the sublimest faith and zeal, stUl clings to
it ; so that even with admiration is mingled a partial
repugnance, owing to the mere circumstance of some
thing in our nature having to give way. It is evident

J ael 151
tba<f some place must be aUowed in morality for acts
of this kind ; when we see how many different rela
tions we stand in, one of which may come into colli
sion with another. Justice must thus sometimes
supersede^ family affection and friendship ; yet the
opposition of principles, both so sacred, cannot issue
in a pleasing act ; though we may admire the moral
strength of wiU to which has yielded the affection,
whatever it was, which ought to have yielded. The
ancient world had its great actions of this type, which
were handed down as exemplars ; such was that of
Brutus condemning his own sons to death for conspir
ing against their country,-' and the consul Manlius'
execution of his own son fresh from the victorious
single combat, the engagement in which was a breach
of military discipline. Scripture contains many acts
in which a Divine command is fulfilled at the cost of
- natural feeling. When Zebat and Zalmunna say to
Gideon, "^Eise thou and fall upon us ; for as the man is,
so is his strength," ^ the magnanimity of the captive
princes seems to be a motive for sparing them ; and
when Agag had once felt that " the bitterness of death "
was past, the justice which hewed him in pieces
before the Lord jars with natural clemency. It is
quite as easy to suppose as not, that Jael had to over
come, by a great effort, a strong, warm, and generous
feeling to a guest, in executing an imperious task of
1 InfeUx ! Utcumque ferent ea facta minores ;
Vincet amor patriae, laudumque immensa cupido.
Virg. .Mn., vi. 823.
a Judges viu. 21.

152 Jael.
faith. No explanation of an act can undo the actual
composition of it, or remove an opposition of this kind
within it ; though the substance of an act is separable
from the shock to the feelings. But though the act
is repugnant to the feeUngs, the character of the
agent is rescued when the act is done upon justifying
grounds. •
But a funereal stiain alternates with the hostUe
triumph of Deborah, as she comes to the closing
scene of Sisera. Mingling with the description of her
treachery, the courtesies of Jael's tent to the Canaanite
general wear the aspect of the last honours to the
great. Deborah's idea is that of the great man's'
falling in the midst of the high deference paid him.
If it was right that Jael should ¦ kUl him, because his
path crossed the awful scope of a Divine sentence, stiU
such attentions, so long as he was aUve, were in place ;
they marked him, though an enemy, stUl as foremost
and as leader. We see the mournful contrast between
life and death, which aU poetry has Ungered over.
Greatness, as strack dovm at one blow, in the
midst of its honours, and the tribute paid to it, pro
duces a passing emotion of sympathy even in the
mind of the Jewish prophetess, whUe her main
thoughts foUow her countiy's rescue : and the mighty
foe is laid low in that grand solemnity of verse, and
in that sad picture of death, in which a high com
passion speaks — " At her feet he bowed, he feU, he
lay down; at her feet he bowed, he feU; where he
bowed, there he feU down dead."

LECTURE VIL
CONNECTION OF JAEL'S ACT WITH
THE MORALITY OF HER AGE.
TT was shown in the last Lecture that Jael's act was
¦*- in obedience to a Divine command ; though that
command was not given separately and particularly to
her; — in obedience to the command by which the
present war had been undertaken against the Canaan
ites ; .which war, when it was once undertaken, became
ipso facto a war of extermination, and joined that whole
stream of hostUe impulse which had begun the original
invasion of the promised land. It was shown that,
according to the natural interpretation of the sacred
narrative, Jael must have known of the Divine com
mand by which the present war was undertaken, and
must have known of the nature and scope of the war.
But such a scope and design in a war undertaken by
Divine command, involved the duty of aU who exe
cuted the Divine plan in the war, to take their part
individuaUy in the work of destraction, and to be pre
pared to kiU the enemy wherever an opportunity was
offered. And Sisera upon the present occasion speci
ally gave Jael this opportunity.
Had then this general command to destroy the
Canaanites, which included Sisera, been a command

154 Connection of Jael's Act
in the full and ordinary sense in which that expression
is used, — ^in the sense in which such a phrase is under
stood when it is said a Chi^stian is commanded by
God to do this or that ; had this been the case, it
might have been said that that command carried with
it the fuU justification of the homicide : and it might
have been said also that the act of treachery had the
same justification, inasmuch as the Divine command
could only have been executed by means of dissimula
tion. It might have been said that the circumstances
under which the act was done took it entirely out of
the ordinary estimate of such an act; because the
person to whom it was done had been strack out of
the roU of Uving humanity by an act of God; he
had been proscribed as an outlaw, to whom the com
mon offices of humanity, including that of continuing
his life, were not due ; he was one of a race against
which utter extermination had been proclaimed ; and
he had been especiaUy singled out for denunciation.
But what were the obhgations of Jael as regards such
a person ? Jael was under an obUgation to kUl him,
and if so what obUgation was she under to speak the
truth to him ?
It must be seen that such a defence as this would
profess to be a fuU and complete defence of Jael ; and
that it would profess to acquit her whoUy of anything
laid to her charge ; and to make it a fit and suitable
act even for a Christian to do ; everything would have
been explained which was an obstruction to the per
fect moral recognition of the act ; and nothing would
profess to have been wanting to a complete justifica-

with the Morality of her Age. 155
tion. It is true the treachery is what has chiefly at
tracted attention to the act of Jael : and had the same
act of homicide been done under different circumstances,
had she, e.g., kUled Sisera as "a certain woman "^
on the top of a tower kiUed Abimelech, by cast
ing a piece of a millstone upon his head, nothing
would have been said ; but it is her treachery
which has occasioned the great denunciation of her
act. But this defence professes to be a complete
justification of the deceit as weU as of the homicide, —
upon the supposition of a command of God to kiU
Sisera. St. Paul's position appears to be that the duty of
truth-speaking is an offshoot of the ordinary relations
of man to man, and that it is a consequence of men
being members one of another. The ground for the
duty is the relation of charity in which we stand to
each other, of the unity, moral and social, by which
we are connected with each other. "Speak every
man trath with his neighbour : for we are members
one of another." ^ Deceit is a barrier between one man
and another, and is therefore contrary to union and
membership. The duty of speaking the truth thus
takes its place under the general head of charity ; of
good and considerate treatment of others. Truth-
speaking is not a universal isolated obUgation
which we are under ; — a law to say truth under all
circumstances, and in whatever relations we stand
to the other party ; but it supposes certain relations,
viz., the ordinary relations of man with man, the
' Judges ix. 53. ^ Eph. iv. 25.

156 Connection of Jael's Act
natural terms of fellowship with man,— that we are
bound to perform all the offices of humanity to him,
and to behave to him as a brother. When we speak
of the certain and obvious obligation to sincerity,
these are the relations which we suppose ; and St.
Paul places the duty of veracity upon its proper basis,
and gives the law of tmth its proper position in the
frame and system of morals, when he assigns the duty
of truth-speaking this large and deep source, this in
teUigible connection, and this inclusive rationale.
it appears to follow, then, that when these ordinary
relations to a man cease, when the natural terms of
feUowship with him are dissolved, and so far as they
are dissolved, the duty of speaking tmth to hiija no
longer exists. The relations being at an end from which
the duty of veracity proceeds, the duty goes with
them ; and the moral character of an untruth alters
with the fundamental ground on which we stand
toward the man.
Thus, with a murderer engaged in the act, it
must be said we are not on natural terms of fel
lowship ; the ordinary relations of man to man are
suspended. Supposing him to ask information of us,
then, in pursuit of his object, it is no duty to abstain
from deceiving him. Speak the tmth, for we are
neighbours one of another. But such a rnan is not a
neighbour and not a brother, he is~deprived therefore
of no I'ight by deception, A man has evidently the
right to take away the murderer's life, when it is neces
sary to do so, in order to save another Ufe. But it is
absurd to say that a man has a right to kUl him

with the Morality of her Age. 157
in order to protect another Ufe, and that he has not
a right to deceive him for the same purpose. A
release, then, from the ordinary obUgation to truth-
speaking has been attributed to situations in which
the contrary is necessary in order to save the life of
another from the hands of a murderer. But it must
seem that in any other case in which a man ceases
to be a feUow, — and is thus out of membership and
union with you, — he js naturally deprived of the
same right to truth-speaking : where, e.g., the relations
of humanity are dissolved ; — the great relation of man
to man, that of keeping him aUve, or being desirous
of doing so.
A mere executioner may be regarded as a simple
tool or weapon, but, in the case of Jael, here is a
person who is more than this, who is bound by her will
to seek the man's Ufe, and take measures, if she can,
to secure her end. This is plainly an unnatural relation
of one man toward another man. But does not the
right of truth-speaking presuppose the natural relations
of humanity ? It is not easy to conceive a more total
contradiction to the natural relations between one man
and another man than the duty of killing that other
man. When you are so completely released, then, from
the law of charity as that it has become your duty to
aim at the death of another, are you stUl bound to
openness and sincerity in your mode of seeking it ?
The duty of sincerity is so plainly connected with the
law of human fellowship, that to say that upon the
dissoltition of that la,w no consequence at all could
foUow to that duty, would be a strange assertion. The

158 Connection of Jael's Act
duty of truthfulness cannot co-exist with the duty of
kiUing. The abnormal position with respect to life is
thus disturbing to the regular position with regard to
truth; ff so important a modification of his generalrights
has taken place as that his right to life no longer exists,
it is difficult to say what change may not have ensued
in his right to truthfulness. Our duty to our neigh
bour is one whole ; if our neighbour has forfeited no
right, he has a claim upon that whole ; but ff he has
forfeited the right to one part, it is difficult to say
how that one part may not have affected another
part. If one social relation has given way, we can
not say that another may not have been undermined
by it. Upon this general argument a defence of Jael has
been attempted by some commentators whicl} aims at
being a complete justification of her under the circum
stances; as though she might have done the act in every
detaU, being a Christian, i.e., that the act is perfectly
moral throughout. But we must see that the foundation
gives way for such a defence as this. It is essential for
such a perfectly-justifying defence, — ^inasmuch as the
whole of it rests upon the foundation of a Divine com
mand to kUl, in the first instance, — that that command
should have been without reserve, and that it should be
capable of being fallen back upon as a true command
of God, with the same perfect reUance with which we
fall back upon a command of the Gospel. But it is evi
dent that this command was made with a reserve, and
that it is a command in a different sense from that of any
command given under the Gospel. A Divine com-

with the Morality of her Age. 159
' mand to undertake a war of extermination could
oiUy, to begin with, necessarily have been a command
by condescension to the defective state of man's moral
perceptions in that age. It was impossible, as has
been said in the foregoing Lectures, that people could
have acknowledged a Divine command to make war
in such a manner as this, unless they were themselves
at the time under defective and erroneous moral con
ceptions. Thus a command with a reserve, in
accommodation to man's ignorance or infirmity, is
not reaUy a command of God, because what it
starts from is the evU in man, and not the perfect
; good in the Divine wUl. Jael having accepted a dis
pensation of accommodation to evU, has not the ground
for availing herself of a perfectly-justifying defence,
and such a defence is wasted upon her position.
Another explanation suits her, which does not profess
to be fuU justification, but which does give her the
shelter of a particular dispensation.
The great Omission, as we have seen, in the mind
of that age was the omission of the idea of human
individuality. When chUdren were destroyed on ac
count of the sin of the father, and nations were
destroyed on account of the sins of certain portions of
them : when, in fact, human sin was tieated en masse,
and not as a question relating to the individual only
— such defective and unsound ideas of mankind on
human individuality became an immediate cause of the
mde and barbarous acts of that day. There are two
characteristics of Jael's act : there is the destruc
tion of life; and there is the treachery. It is her

i6o Connection of Jael's Act
treachery and dissimulation, as has been said, which
have produced the great denunciation of her act. But
the omission of the idea of human individuaUty takes
away at bottom equaUy the right to Iffe and the
right to tmth. It is upon the stand of his own in
dividuaUty that man claims both Iffe and truth. He
has a right to his life being respected by others, and
he has a right to tiuth. at the hands of others, because
he is himself a man. He takes his stand upon himseff.
Immediately he is regarded as an appendage to
another — whether that other be an individual, a famUy,
or a nation — ^he loses the intrinsic rights of man
whether to life or tiuth. A loose notion of Ufe and
a loose notion of truth naturaUy go together ; a dim
conception of the property and a defective idea of the
duty. When the Duke of Wellington first went over
to India he made the remark that the Hindus
laboured under two great defects in their moral cha
racter — ^that they did not care for Iffe, and they did not
care for truth. ^ The putting the two together was a
just piece of criticism, and showed that the comment
was made upon a basis of true phUosophy. There
must be a due sense of the right of Iffe in a man,
a sense, of his individuality, a sense of the existence
of the personal being, in himseff and upon his own
account, before his right to truth can be made out.
Truth-speaking is only a part of the general duty of
doing to others as we would be done by ; the right to
it ceases with the general rights of man : it ceases
^ IVellington's Supplementary Despatches, vol. i. p. 16.

witji the Morality of her Age. i6i
with the fundamental relations of man to man, with
the necessary claims which are inherent in man as
feUow with man. A man must first have a right to
his own existence, and then he may have a right to
sometliing further ; but before everything else he
must be treated as an individual being. But the
early dispensation under which man was living then,
did not treat him as such, because it appended
him to something which was not himself, in the in
ffiction of punishment and on the question of Iffe.
There must have been inadequate ideas of the indivi
duality of man and of the rights of human Iffe before a
dispensation could have been received which enforced
wars of extermination — ^wars which would now be
contrary to morality, — for the reason that our ideas on
the subject of human individuality and the rights of
hfe are completely changed, and that we have been
enUghtened on these subjects upon which the early ages
of mankind were in the dark. But when man was
not treated as a person, as an individual being, — when
he had not the right to Ufe, he had not the right to
truth-speaking either. What is the meaning of being
obUged to speak truth to one who is not a person ;
obliged to speak truth to one who is not a substance ;
and who is not a being ? He must be something sub
stantial and must be something in himseff, to whom
trath must be spoken. A man who has not the right
to his own existence, has lost the right to have truth
spoken to him also. Deborah acted then from prin
ciples of reason, when she gathered from the right to
destroy life, the right to disguise truth too, — when she
M

1 62 Connection of J ael' s Act
passed her imprimatur upon both the characteristics of
Jael's act ; — ^when she looked upon Sisera as an outlaw,
and a man without rights to tiuth, as soon as ever it
was clear he had no right to his own Ufe. The dispen
sation justified in the violation of Ufe, the violation of
truth ; the violation of Ufe was the violation of truth ;
justice and truth were the same thing : ff Sisera was
kiUed because being a Canaanite he had not the right
to Iffe, it was a much Ughter thing to say that being
a Canaanite he had not a right to have truth spoken
to him.
. Does the historical defence, then, of Jael's act, in
the last Lecture, imply that it meets with the approba
tion of Scripture generaUy, and that it was a good act
according to the principles laid down in Scripture as
a whole ? The only part of Scripture, which at all
witnesses upon this point, and commits Scripture,
according to any standard, to an approbation of the act
of Jael, is Deborah's praise of the act. The narrative
itself only records the fact, and expresses no opinion of
Scripture upon it. But Deborah's praise is clear and
decided, and she declares that Jael " is blessed above
women" on account of this act. Deborah was an
inspired' prophetess, and her approval of the act is
identical with the approval of Scripture.
But what is the moral standard which Deborah
acknowledges when she praises the act of Jael, and
according to what standard is her praise given ? It is
evident that this makes aU the difference in the nature
of the praise, and upon the question whether it was
praise in the fuUest sense or not. This praise is obviously

with the Morality of her Age. 163
given, then, according to the standard of the time, as
involved in the dispensation of the time, publicly
receiived in the Israelitish body of that day as a reU
gious community. This was the only standard which
was known to Deborah ; and it was impossible that she
should give her praise upon any other. It is sometimes
vaguely supposed that when an act is praised in Scrip
ture, it receives the praise of Scripture as a whole, and
must therefore be an act absolutely good and correct,
and equal to bearing the strictest examination in a
court of morals under any dispensation, and in any age
of the world. But to suppose this, is to suppose a
totaUy different structure of Scripture and revelation
from the real pne ; it is totaUy to overlook the very
principles which our Lord assumes in his Sermon on the
Mount. The revelation which is made in Scripture is
made up of different dispensations ; and different suc
cessive manffestations of God's wiU and character. The
only dispensation which was known to Deborah was the
dispensation under which she lived, — the dispensation
under which the Israelites established themselves in
Canaan. But this dispensation was in no disagreement
whatever with the estimate of the act bf Jael as a
virtuous and a right act. It was a dispensation which
supposed a defective state of moral ideas in the people,
and which required for its ovpn reception an erroneous
standard of morals. The praise therefore bestowed under
that dispensation upon a particular act, did not imply
moral correctness, according to a universal standard, in
that act ; did not satisfy the Bible as a whole, because
it satisfied a part ofthe Bible. Deborah represented the

1 64 Connection of Jael's Act
dispei^isation of the time, and Jael satisfied the dispen
sation of the time. Deborah's praise, therefore, was
worthUy given ; but it did not imply its being given
according to a universal standard.
And this consideration decides the sense of De
borah's praise of the treachery, as well as the homicide.
Deborah contemplates both the tieachery and the
homicide, and it does not stop her praise, — " She
brought forth butter in a lordly dish. She put her
hand to the naU, and her right hand to the hammer."
This was praise of the act in its twofold character of
dissimulation and destruction. It was obviously not
the idea of Deborah that there was anything wrong in
either; the whole act' counts as a noble manffesta-
tion of reUgious zeal But the truth is, that the dis
pensation of the time tolerated both ; it tolerated both
and it justified both, by virtue of that one single omis
sion which was made at the foundation of the dispen
sation ; viz., the omission of the idea of human indi-
viduaU|;y. The dispensation was compeUed to accom
modate itseff to the omission of this primary idea,
because it was compelled to take man as he was ; and
he had not yet, in this stage of, his growth, attained
to this full idea. I say that Deborah, in pronouncing
the act of Jael good, pronounced it to be good ac
cording to a particular dispensation. Whether an act
is good or not in itseff and universaUy, is a question of
moral philosophy ; but whether it is good accordmg to
a particular dispensation is not a question of moral
phUosophy but a question of simple history. It is
simply to say, Was this act considered as a fact to

with the Morality of her Age. , 165
be good by persons competent to estimate it who
lived under that dispensation ? And upon that
question is not Deborah as good a -witness as we can
find ? Who is judge of what was a good act under
that dispensation ff Deborah is not? The act, by
being praised by Deborah, proved itself to be a good
act according to that standard; an act of morality,
according to her own dispensation. She was by position
a judge ; and to be praised by her was equivalent to
saying it was good according to that dispensation.
But though a good act according to a dispensation,
— an act of faith, an act of love to Israel, — a Christian
could not have done it, for the simple reason that he
could not have accepted that dispensation by the autho
rity of which it was done, by virtue of which Sisera be
came an outlaw, deprived of the right to Ufe. No Divine
command to destroy Sisera, apart from all reasons of
human law, could have been acknowledged by a Chris
tian ; and therefore, inasmuch as the act could only
be justifiable on the supposition of a Divine command
to do it, a Christian is necessarUy without evidence of
the only justifying reason which could exist in the
case. Christians have indeed sometimes acted upon
Old Testament precedents, to which they have given
their own application, but the use of such precedents
at aU has been whoUy condemned by the Christian
Church. Such acts as that of Jacob Clement and
EavaUlac have had sentence passed on them as being
simply immoral acts, and unable to be taken out of
the catalogue of murders. Doubtless such acts under
an early . dispensation were very different acts, and

1 66 Connection of Jael's Act
hold a very different moral rank ; but when revived
under a Christian light, they appear only as horrible
and false ; as lapses from a perfect dispensation to an
imperfect, and from a dispensation of knowledge and
light to one of ignorance and darkness.
But though it could not have been done by a
Christian, it is not too much to say that the act of
Jael was a grand thotigh extreme specimen of that
type of act which is produced by the proverb, Love
your friend and hate your enemy. The act has
everything to do both with a friend and an enemy.
Sisera is an enemy in the deepest sense, as being an
enemy of the adopted people of God. Here, then,
Jael was only an enemy. But turn from the attitude
of Jael toward the enemy, and you see immediately
\h% friend. In her resolute rescue of Israel from the
hand of the great Canaanite, in her summary suppres
sion of what would have been the seed of another
invasion — the return of Sisera to Hazor to renew his
plots and hostUities, — ^here is the friend. People have
generaUy only Sisera before them in contemplating
this act ; but Israel ought to be the principal object.
The enemy ought not to occupy our minds, without
the friend, — and the feelings toward the friend, —
coming in to give the act its explanation, and invest
it with its main motive. The act at first sight appears
a solitary act, and the agent appears devoted only to
her one dreadful work; but we have only to look
around, and we see enthusiastic devotion to the
IsraeUtish body ; whose rescue from the enemy is evi
dently the great stimulus to the act. While showing

with the Morality of her Age. 167
the ferocity and dissimulation considered due to an
enemy, it gratifies a lofty partizanship for the people
of God, and unbounded fervourffor a cause. It is an
act with aU the warmth and public affection in it,
which a pubUc person gives to a great cause, who
is determined that that cause shaU not lose at
aU in his hands. Israel shall suffer no longer from
fear of the enemy. The act thoroughly adopted
the great precept of the older dispensation,^ and hers
was obviously just the character that carried out the
precept to the utmost. The older dispensation
divided the world in two, as regards moral relations
toward them, and pre'sented two objects, — one which
naturally caUed for injury, and the other for love.
So coupled together are the friend and the enemy,
that even in the perpetration of the most violent
deeds upon the enemy, one sees on the other side the
overflowing friend. It is a real double side of a man;
he reaUy hates on one side and really loves on the
other. That is the operation of the dispensation : it
is real feeUng both ways. The law does not admit of
neutrality and ambiguity ; still less does it admit of
enmity only : it is a law of enmity and love both. It
does not aUow of the affectionate side of a man being
chiUed, or of a man's heart being nipped and blighted
by hostUe and maUcious thought, which is a common
effect of carr3ring out hostUe feelings; it supposes
with enmity, love ; the two sets of feelings are reaUy
in fuU play toward their respective proper objects.
In Jael's act we see botn the enemy toward whom,
1 Matt. V. 43.

1 68 Connection of J ael' s Act
and friend for whom it is done. Both are implanted
in the act, and the ardent rescue is as conspicuous as
the dreadful death. Deborah's thanksgiving reveals
on the enemy's side irretrievable ruin, and on Israel's
the completeness of triumph.
With respect aUke to the charge of homicide and
treachery, Jael must be taken in connection with the
facts of her day. What she thought upon the right
to Iffe, and what she thought upon the right to trath,
was only a consequence of the fundamental want in
the ideas of the age — ^the idea of man, in which his
attributes and his rights were alike contained. We
find her enthusiastically joining in a war of extirpa
tion, which is a plain violation of the rights of Ufe in
the individual; and this primary want of respect for
man is the necessary foundation of the subordinate
want of respect for truth. But the faults of the age
leave in the act the faith of the individual;, the frater
nisation with the good, the acknowledgment of pro
phecy, the look forward to the future. It would be
useless to frame for Jael's conduct a rationale, which
would present it to us as satisfjTng a later and a
Christian standard of moraUty. We find another
standard at that time in occupation of the world, and
marking the dominion of the unenUghtened mUid.
But it should never be forgotten that this act was an
act of true religious zeal done in defence of reUgion,
and for the preservation of a Divine dispensation in
the world, against idolatry, polytheism, and corrup
tion of morals.
Not that the tiue idea of man was entirely want-

with the Morality of her Age. 169
ing in the age of the older dispensation, — ^far from it ;
and stUl less that the offshoots of it were wholly want
ing, — the respect for life and the respect for tmth.
The idea of man as a personal and individual being is
contained in the first chapter of Genesis, in the very
account of the creation of man. That man was made
in the image of God anticipates the whole develop
ment of man as an individual being, with his attri
butes, his rights, and his prospects. Truth was
enforced in the ninth commandment. There were two
opposing principles in the old dispensation ; there was
the idea of man as a mere appendage to something
without him, some body or some individual with
which he was identified in guUt and in punishment, and
in which his personahty was absorbed, so that he was
kiUed ff the other being was guilty ; and, struggling
with this idea of man, as a reflection or an appendage
to something else, there was the other idea of him as a
substantial being who had his existence in himself, and
whose Ufe was his own property, and could only be lost
by his ovm act. The last of these two ideas must
have existed from the first, in order to be developed
so fuUy as it ultimately was : to be the seed of a great
future, it must have had a place aU along ; but stiU it
was the seed at first rather than the mature idea.
One estimate of man confficted with another: — one
which deprived him of fundamental rights and of
justice, with one which announced that he was made
in the image of God. The latter had the strength of
reason on its side, and as a matter of course gained the
victory over a temporary principle.

1 70 Connection of Jael's Act
The general aim of the foregoing observations has
been to show that the act of Jael arose out of the dis
pensation, that it represents the dispensation, and that
it does not represent the individual only. Did the act
represent the individual only, it would have been
a great mistake in Deborah to put the prophetical
imprimatur upon it, and incorporate it in the Scrip
ture of the old dispensation. But it was not the act
of an individual only ; it was an act which repre
sented a dispensation. That dispensation starts with
the sanction of a class of actions which could not
be done by an enlightened people with fuU and
mature moral perceptions. There was therefore no
reason why its sanction should not be given to an act
like that of Jael. The dispensation did not respect
the rights of man to Ufe ; it was no more then, than an
agreement with such a foundation that it should not
respect the rights of man to truth ; and that, when a
great enemy of the sacred nation lost one right, he lost
the other too. Both rights were in fact lost in the
one omission of the primary idea of individuaUty,
which deprived man of the standing ground upon
which the two important claims were buUt. That the
act did represent the dispensation is shown in truth
by the mere fact of the praise of Deborah having been
bestowed upon it ; for a good act, according to the
standard of a particular dispensation, is a simple mat
ter for historical evidence; and is shown in the fact of
competent persons, under the dispensation, acknow
ledging and publishing its merits.
Let us compare an early dispensation with early

with the Morality of her Age. 171
states of society in respect to these clouds upon them.
We know it is one great point of comparison between
civiUsation and barbarism, the mode in which they
respectively treat human Iffe ; and it may be added
that another point of comparison is the mode in which
they respectively treat truth. In civilisation the
theory itseff imposes respect for Ufe and respect for
truth both ; but it can hardly be said to do so with
respect to either in barbarism. One conspicuous point
of comparison between civUisation and barbarism lies in
the different position of lying: it reflects disgrace, theo
retically and according to the system under the one, but
hardly under the other. A mde and mixed standard
marks the dominion of the uncivUised mind. There
was a great deal of generosity in the mind of that
day, an enthusiasm for nation, famUy, and tribe, and
a devotion to old custom and law. But this poetical
framework of things also admitted of stiong special
shapes of treachery and deceit, and of these rising into
great prominence, and assuming a place among the
characteristics of the age and nation. Wherever the
creed of Love thy friend and hate thine enemy, in short,
is the established creed, deceit and treachery become
a strong popular mode of action. The system of clan
ship ispeciaUy^ represented this old maxim. People
were faithful and loyal to their own tribe, and sacrificed
themselves for it. What stories have come down to
us of undying affection, of indomitable courage and
fideUty, of enthusiastic adventure I But with the
friend there was the enemy. It might be supposed that
two perpetual foes would sometimes have thought for a

172 Connection of Jail's Act
moment about what it was which made them so ; why
it was that they must always be fightmg : the rationale
of national animosity must sometimes have puzzled
them ; what it was that made hatied an original neces
sity for each : but in truth such investigation was
entirely out of their way; they had never known
themselves other than enemies ; enmity therefore was
to them a law of nature.
Such was the doctrine of an enemy, and it was
the infaUible effect of the doctrine to produce deceit.
In rude ages "the enemy" was a character which
emerged ; — one of the actual dramatis personcB of
the scene — to whom the popular beUef attached
that it was lavsfful to Ue to him, and that he had
ceased ¦ to be our neighbour or our brother ; that
feUowship was over, and that vdth the ground of
communion and feUowship the duty of veracity had
ceased. That duty being oiUy the expression of the
fact that we are members one of another, men had
no right to it when they were natural enemies. The
enemy was one who was out of the pale of charity, and
with whom injurious relations were natural. But ff in
jurious relations were natural, untruthful relations were
natural also [Note 5). It is thus that in early rude ages,
and in the periods of tribe or clan, where the sword takes
so prominent a part, deceit takes an equaUy prominent
part. The one law is made to flow in thought logicaUy
from the other. The sword takes away Ufe ; he hagjio
right to truth-speaking who has no right to Ufe. - The
period of combat, violence, and open camage,-J;hus
becomes specially a period of trick, stratagem, and

with the Morality of her Age. 1 73
falsehood too. As the " enemy" was the natural
object of violence, he was the natural victim of a lie ;
and rude forms of society fostered a remarkable and
subtle mixture of character. You would have ex
pected, at first view, that the qualities which this
period and kind of Iffe would have fostered, would
have been the open and daring ones, and these
exclusively or chiefly; that they would have raised
the test of physical courage and daring, and would
' have encouraged with these open robbery, violence, and
aggression ; but that they would not have given their
countenance to tieachery, dissimulatiSn, and underhand
dealings. But on looking into the modes of acting aijd
the pervading models of rude times, we flnd an over
whelming quantity of fraud and deceit. They impose
upon one another, fabricate intricate plots, and con
struct subtle measures; stratagem and conspiracy
constituting their prominent course of action. They
adopt what is necessary. They flnd that deceit is neces
sary for them, in order to produce anything formidable,
to gather things to a head, and bring any move of the
tribe, or of a party, to its proper strength ; to coUect
resources in such a shape as to secure success.
Although, therefore, on the one side they have the
roughness of defiance, impulse, and impetuosity, on
the other, their whole Une of conduct is underhand.
The_daring temper is quite consistent with the deceit
ful. They must do what is effectual, and underground
work^s effectual. Men dissimulate in order to strike
a great blow when it is wanted ; and treacherous con-

1 74 Connection of Jael's Act
cealment tells at last. Eude times, on the same
principle on which they use force, use deceit.
But the man being true to his clan and to his
neighbour, treachery became a special and local quaUty,
and was prevented from entering completely into the
general character by virtue of its confinement to " the
enemy." A man was false in a hostUe relation ; but
only see him as a neighbour, and he was true.
But not only this, the principle once admitted
of loving friends and hating enemies, the two kinds
of action, true and false, become a natural alterna
tion. They are so hearty in both that they never
think of those to whom they are false without thinking
of those to whom they are true. As, a piece of treachery
is played on one side, an image meets them from the
other side of bright and spotless fidelity. They know
they do everything for their friends, — go through
any sacrifice. Their very tieachery, then, looks
different according to its company. Lying is the
natural deaUng with the enemy, as tmth is the natural
dealing with the friend. There is therefore nothing to
apologise for in lying ; he only gets it who deserves it,
and to whom it is natural conduct. A Ue accompames
truth as the shadow the substance.
The creed of Love your friend and hate your enemy
thus produced, as its natural consequence, falsehood.
The circumstances of the world, indeed, produce various
modifications and shades of the character of thO'
" enemy." He is not always a person who aims at
Ufe, and must be met by an equal blow ; he is only
one who exists in some injurious relation to you. But

with the Morality of her Age. 175
in proportion as a natural law of hostiUty exists under
any form, so a natural law of untiuthfulness follows as
a consequence. Thus in the old-fashioned school of
former days, when the schoolmaster figured in the
boyish imagination as a natural enemy, he was also
the natural recipient of a falsehood. It was a different
thing to tell a lie to the master and to teU a lie to any
one else. The constitutional enmity which attached to
his position, whereby he was the chastiser of faults and
persecutor of indolence, was held also a justification
of exceptional morals in the boy. The character of an
enemy and the shield of an untruth against him went
together ; and when the hostUe fiction was adopted,
this result, upon a question of truth, was its natural
consequence. But deceit toward a master was a
local species of deceit. It did not enter into the
general character, but was consistent with truth and
openness to others. It foUowed a traditional casuistry,
which confined itseff to the school, and was cast off
when the school was exchanged for general society
and Ufe.
Some sort of lying is, then, we find, attached
to esprit de corps wherever it is excessive or un
disciplined. It comes before us as a social thing.
Men who carry on a piece of deceit together are bound
and united together by it ; ff there is a tiadition, a sen
timent, an association of blood or tribe connected with
it, — a reUgious cause involved in it, they are the more
bound by it (iVbie 6). A Ue is a sort of Eoman sacra
mentum by which men devote themselves to a cause.
They thereby enter into an engagement which commits

1 76 Connection of Jael's Act
them to an extiaordinary interest in a common object.
A lie is regarded as a romantic offering to a party or
cause. When it is made corporately and in common, by
a number, it inspires them with the sense of a common
sacrifice. Thus conspiracies are eminently social, and
act as bonds of union ; though these contracted unions
break up, and are apt to turn to ennuties. The com-
mon form of Ijdng is then selfish and soUtary ; but
another form of it is corporate and sympathetic. It
witnesses to a strong attachment to a body. The clan
and the tribe feel themselves consecrated by patriotic
tieachery achieved for their sake, and the pubUc spirit of
that age takes up_deceit .whieh studies effectiveness and
aims vigorously .at. results. They see in deceit a power
which gathers together resources, and brings combina
tion to a head. The cause grows by the individual
sacrifice, and the lie flatters the esprit de corps, and
connects itself with sympathy for country and public
ends. When from these facts, connected with deceit and
its place in the morals of mankind in the rude eras of
secular history, we go to the act of Jael, the root of
esprit de corps is not conspicuous at first ; no crowd is
near her to carry off the act as a popular one done for
a whole nation or cause. She does it by herseff. It
is a solitary act. But it is plain, when we go into the
circumstances, that this solitary act is done as reaUy
in defence of a whole people, — is as complete a sacrifice
of herself to the IsraeUtish cause, and to a sacred party
spirit, — as ff it had been done with aU Israel by. The
act is upon the type of the deceit of early ages, it is

with the Morality of her Age. \ 77
public-spirited, and strongly sympathetic. She has the
whole 'reUgious cause and movement before her eyes.
She is in intimate relations with Deborah and the
leaders of Israel, and she knows she is conferring an
enormous and incalculable benefit on the cause of Israel.
The very lie which she teUs for that cause, so far from
being a solitary and unsocial act, has in it the most
intense spirit of public Iffe, and impersonates the whole
animus of pubUc partizanship.
Eemarks such as these would naturally involve,
did we foUow them up, a general comparison of
barbarism and civiUsation, especiaUy upon the subject
of trathfulness ajid that class of virtues. We are in
the first place apt to suppose that a rude age is as a
matter of course a simple one ; we imagine greater
transparency and sincerity. But do facts agree ? If
there is anything with which human nature shows an
early acquaintance, it is with the fact that on the sub
ject of truth the faculty of speech is absolutely
neutral, and ready to accommodate itseff perfectly
to either side. The whole apparatus of language fits
in with a lie, and is entirely at its service. ; it is as
ready an instrument for the use of falsehood as of
truth. This is one of the first observations of experi
ence. A Ue is an instrument, a means to an end, and
it possesses in an extraordinary degree the virtue of
an instrament — great faciUty of appliance. A Ue is in
its very nature perfectly easy. It is produced by the
simple powers of speech. The powers of speech are
not in themselves alUed speciaUy to, nor have any

178 Connection of J ael' s Act
bias to, truth; the tongue obeys the wUl in either
direction. If a person wishes to say what is not trae,
he can say it with absolute promptness. The state
of things in the early ages shows a mind that made
the largest use of such a Uberty as this, and what
followed from such an option being left to human
discretion. {Note 7.)
The great principle in man which opposed lying
was the idea of the individuality of man. His per-
sonaUty made him -worthy of truth; but the
general progress of man aided in that improvement.
Doubtless civilisation has in it all that pampers
human nature, that brings out his appetites and aims,
and furnishes a rich feast; and whatever tempts
human nature and makes it wish strongly, tempts
it to Ue — only regarding lying as means to an end,, a
mode of getting things it wants to get. But civUisa
tion has much in it which is coercive of lying, and
inducive to truth. It develops industry ; people begin
to recognise that labour is profitable ; stated wages
are an enlightening ; regular avenues push aside
irregular; respectable motives, honourable stimulus,
and plain tiuth, compose a formidable phalanx. The
system of trade, with its direct modes of retum, makes
everything understood, and shows off plain deaUng at
an advantage. The wheels and machinery of civiUsa
tion advance reputation as an inducement, and by
bringing it within reach of all, give it new influence
as a motive of action. Although, then, it is with a
mixture, it aids the great law of truth and the

with the Morality of her Age. 1 79
trae idea of man. Distant views out of our range
have an enchantment, and appeal to a poetical look ;
but we see the vast amount of real power which
civUisation throws on the side of honesty and plain
deaUng.

LECTURE VIIL
THE LAW OF RETALIATION.
TF one had to describe shortly the defect of recent
-¦- criticism upon the Old Testament, one would
say that it did not make aUowance for the necessities
of a -progressive revelation. The Jewish dispensation
was a progressive revelation, i.e., it did not promul
gate at once what was absolutely true in reUgion or
morals, but prepared people for it. But it was not
only a progressive revelation which had its end and
scope in the distant future, it was a progressive
revelation which had also to legislate for the im
mediate present. That was a remarkable combina
tion ; it involved a peculiar relation of the Divine
Instiuctor and Educator to His pupil ; and it was the
nucleus of the whole complex character of the old
dispensation. That dispensation acted for an end;
but legislation for the present was essential to its
very object with reference to that end ; essential to
the very object of ultimate enlightenment. Could
mere teaching have accomplished this end — a sort of
standing lecture on sublime morals, — ^whilethe people
in aU other respects were left to themselves ? In
that case legislation would not have been wanted ;
but it is evident that mere teaching would not have

The Law of Retaliation. 1 8 1
done. It would have flown over their heads to the
last, without the nation ever becoming so far en
lightened as to understand it. No ; the people must
be brought under the regular mfluence of a legislative
code. This had alone a training and a moulding
purpose. But legislation must be legislation for the
present moment, and legislation in particulars, foUow
ing all into thefr homes, and penetrating into thefr
Iffe. A people under Divine guidance for a future
end must be placed under laws which operate now.
But such legislation — legislation under such con
ditions as these — involves immediately the principle
of accommodation, on the part of the Perfect Legis
lator, to an existing imperfect moral standard in
those for whom He legislates ; because there is an
interval between the superior and dfrecting mind of
the dispensation, and those who are the subjects of
the dispensation, which can only be bridged over
by such a Divine policy. The principle of accommo
dation, then, is necessary ; but what and how much
is it which is involved in a principle of accommoda
tion? This is a question which wUl requfre some
consideration. There is plainly, then, in the first place, a per
mission involved in the principle of accommodation
— a Divine permission — of an imperfect morality.
God permits certain classes of actions which He
would not permit in Christians ; and it must be
noted that He permits them in a very different sense
from that in which He permits moral evU, as simply
allowing it to take place in the world. Those who

1 82 The Law of Retaliation.
do these actions are va. favour with Him, are in cove
nant with Him, they are separated from aU the nations
of the earth to be HUs peculiar people, or holy nation.
He accepts thefr sacrifices, answers thefr prayers, and
has pleasure in thefr services.
So far we have got, as involved in the principle
of accommodation; i.e., to permission. But in truth,
when we examine it in actual working, we find that
the principle of accommodation cannot stop at per
mission. When a Divine dispensatioii takes up a
mde and prinUtive people, it takes them up not only
with a certain standard of what is aUowable and may
be done estabUshed among them, but also with certain
stiong ideas of what is right and ought to be done ;
certain vigorous notiojis of duty and of obligations,
which exist indeed mixed with imperfections and
extravagance in thefr mind, but which reaUy involve
moral principle, and which obviously constitute the
goodness of the individual and society in that early
stage of history. What is to be done then with these
classes of actions ? Is the Divine Lawgiver, the
Divine standing Head and Euler of the society, only
to say of these actions — I permit them. That would
be simply to relax a people's whole sense of moral obh
gation ; it would be to release them from inaccurately
and coarsely conceived high duties, before there was
time for the growth of a corrector conception of them ;
and so thefr adoption into covenant by God would be
a moral disadvantage to them instead of an improve
ment. It is not competent therefore to the Divine
Legislator to use simply permissive language of these

The Law of Retaliation. 183
popularly conceived duties ; He must command them.
He is bound to keep up the moral sense of the people
to its present height, when He undertakes to raise it
ultimately higher ; He cannot alter therefore the shall
of these duties into may ; He cannot say. You may
do these duties ff you like, I wUl allow you to do
them ; that is not the language of a Lawgiver who
has undertaken to keep up the existing moral obh
gations in a people. To discontinue these duties as
injunctions, and exclude them from the express
countenance and approval of the dispensation, would
be to suppress at the very root the whole purpose of
the dispensation. For how can it properly fulfil its
object of correcting and improving the moral standard
of men, unless it first maintains in obligation the
standard which afready exists ? This is all it has to
buUd upon. It must take the basis which is given to
it ; adopt the high and noble action of mankind, with
its extravagance, roughness, and frregularity ; and
must first command and enjoin it, in the shape in
which it stands, if it is ever to effect an improvement
in it. Those rudely delineated conceptions of duty,
which it intends ultimately to purffy and raise, it
must first impose. To take away from a Divine dis
pensation the right of thus dealing with imperfect
materials, would in fact be to exclude the Divine
Being from the government and dfrection of the world
for any purpose of changing it for the better ; for how
can He act upon the hearts and understandings of
men, how can He instruct and inform them, how can
He regulate and elevate thefr moral estimate, except

184 The Law of Retaliation.
through the medium of those moral ideas which then,
at the time, exist in them ; which must therefore be
sustained in authority, in their defective phase, if they
are ever to be raised to a more perfect one ? To shut
the Deity out of this sphere of imperfect perception
and action, and to forbid Him to command upon this
level, is to take man out of His jurisdiction as a being
to be improved, and throw back human nature upon
itseff. And thus the office, once assumed by God, of
legislating for a mde and primitive people with a
view to thefr ultimate moral improvement, that office
involves in its very nature both Divine permissions
and Divine commands to do actions of imperfect
moraUty. 1. Take, e.g., the law of retaliation — an eye for an
eye, and a tooth for a tooth. It would be doing in
justice to this law to regard it as simply legaUsing the
right of private revenge ; it embodies a principle of
public justice, carried out in that form which justice
has sometimes taken in early ages ; viz., that a wanton
assailant who inflicts an injury on the person of an
other should be punished by suffering a like hurt
himseff. This was doubtless an ancient consuetudinary
law which was engrafted from a general Eastem stock
upon the Mosaic code ; and it was a law which, before
legal courts penetrated into the recesses of society,
was dispensed and executed by the wronged individual
himself; who was charged with the double office of
protecting society and defending himself; and whom
one and the same act avenged himseff and vindicated
the rights of the community too. EetaUation then, in

The Law of Retaliation. 185
this instance, was stimulated by the spirit of justice ;
for an injured man is not precluded from entertaining
a public sense of justice in his indignation at that
outrage which has affected himseff. And therefore
this mle of retaUation in the Mosaic Law is not to be
interpreted as simply permissory ; it has the nature of
a precept and an injunction ; a command to the persons
to whom it was given to exert the right of punishing
those who had wantonly harmed them, and making
them smart for their insolence and brutality. It is a
mistake to suppose that the only treatment which
men want under open injuries, is checking and hold
ing back from an excess of retaliation ; undoubtedly,
regarding man under one aspect it is ; but there is a
side of man's nature on which he is just as much a
coward as he is a thirster for revenge on the other.
Let us place ourselves in the age. There is, observable
in many, a hanging back from doing justice even to
themselves, under such cfrcumstances ; they are
afraid of thefr injurer, and think that they may
perhaps get yet worse from him than they have got ;
they see in his punishment only an incentive to an
other outrage, and conclude that the matter may as
weU rest where it is. A violent man who makes
himseff an object of terror in his neighbourhood, thus
gains an impunity for his acts, — not from the for
bearance but from the timidity of his victims. The
precept in the Mosaic Law is opposed to this want of
courage, and urges retaUation upon men as a duty
due to justice. It imposes conditions mdeed upon
retaUation ; and whereas the injured person is inclined.

i86 The Law of Retaliation.
when he once begins the work of vengeance, to carry
it on beyond aU bounds, and to overstep altogether
the measure of the original injury, the law confines
him to an equal harm.^ StiU the law enjoins retaUa-
^ The law of retaliation, -whicli is to be found in the Hindu code, is
framed in an entirely different spirit from that of Scripture. The idea
of justice, which is- an essential part of the Jewish law, is violated in
the Hindu, as wiU be seen from the following extract from Professor
Monier WUUams' Indian "Wisdom : — " The three most conspicuous
features of his (Mann's) penal laws are exactly those which mark the
earUest forms of criminal legislation, — viz., severity, inconsistency, and
a beUef in the supposed justice of the lex talionis, the latter leading to
punishments which, in later times, would be considered unjustifiably
disproportionate to the oflfences committed, and sometimes barbarously
cruel. Thus : —
"With whatever member of the body a low-bom man may injure a
superior, that very member of Ms must be mutilated.
" A once-born man insulting twioe-bom, men with abusive language must
have his tongue cut out.
" Should he mention their name and caste with insulting expressions (as
• Hallo ! there, Yaj na datta ' — ^vilest of Brahmans), a red-hot iron spike, ten
fingers long, is to be thrust into Ms mouth.
" Should he, through arrogance, attempt to instruct a Brahman in his
duty (saying, You ought to do so and so), the king is to have boiling oil
poured into his mouth and ears.
" Thieves are to have their hands cut ofij and then to be impaled on a
sharp stake.
"A goldsmith detected in committing frauds is to have his body cut in
pieces with a razor.
" It wiU be observed that a graduated scale is prescribed, according
to the rank of the offender, and the class to which he belongs.
Thus:— " A king must never kiU a Brahman, though he may be found guilty of all
possible crimes ; let Mm expel Mm from the Mngdom unharmed in body, and
intact in all his property. There is no greater injustice on earth than the
killing of a Brahman. The king therefore must not harbour a thought about
putting him to death.
" A Kshatriya insulting a Brahman must be fined one hundred panas ; a
Vaisya doing the same must pay one hundred and fifty or two hundred
panas ; a Siidra doing the same must receive corporal punishment." — P. 273.

The Law of Retaliation. 187
tion, and does not only permit it. " Thine eye shaU
not pity ; but life shall go for life, eye for eye, tooth
for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot." ^ And our
Lord mentions retaliation among the injunctions of
the Law, for He is speaking throughout this chapter
— the fifth of St. Matthew — of rules and precepts,
and not permissions. The law of retaliation was
indeed a public law; and so far as the judge took
the vengeance out of the hands of the individual,
so far it became a judicial punishment simply; and
the law alone is responsible for the penalty and
not the individual. " But that such was the pubUc
enactment of the Mosaic Law," says Dean Afford,
" implied a private spfrit of retaliation, which should
seek such redress'; for the example (eye for eye, etc.)
evid,ently refers to private as well as public retribu
tion."^ But this very private spfrit of retaUation
was at the same time enjoined in the Law, and not
only permitted ; was enjoined as being an imperfect
form of proper retribution and justice.
The demand, however, of an eye for an eye, and a
tooth for a tooth, was the fruit of a very imperfect
moral standard, and our Lord passes sentence on it
accordingly, as a mle made obsolete by the rise of a
higher law ; and therefore this is an instance in which
we see the Almighty, in the Mosaic Law, not only
allowing but enjoining and commending an act
of imperfect morality. The Divine Legislator takes
up the idea of justice which belongs to the age,
and sustains it in authority, i,e., lays it down as a
^ Deut xix. 21. ^ Greek Test., note on Matt. v.

1 88 The Law of Retaliation.
precept, until the mind of the people is equal to a
higher law. '
2. Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine
enemy. The latter part of this precept — Thou shalt
hate thine enemy — nowhere occurs in so many words
in the Mosaic Law ; the whole precept, however, as it
stands, undoubtedly represents, and is a summary of,
the sense of the Law ; nor is there any occasion, as
some commentators do, to distinguish the object of
our Lord's prefix — " Ye have heard that it hath been
said," — as it appUes to the first part of this precept, '
and as it applies to the second ; to refer it to the Law
in the case of " Love thy neighbour," and to the tradi
tions of the scribes in the case of " Hate thine enemy."
AU the other precepts which our Lord takes as in
stances of an inferior morality which the Gospel puts
aside, are precepts out of the law, and there is no
reason to distinguish this particular one from the rest
with respect to its source. "Thou shalt love thy
neighbour, and hate thine enemy," is the same forrn of
expression as " Ye shall be perfect."
This precept appUes, in the first place, to the neigh
bour and the enemy in a pubUc and national sense ;
the neighbour was the Israelite, the enemy was he who
was not the Israelite, — the Moabite, the Edomite, the
Ammonite, the PhiUstine.^ This is a definition of a
neighbour and an enemy which belongs especially to
an early stage of society, before smaUer nations and
tribes were coUected under large monarchies, and the
different materials welded together by a central power,
^ Ps. Ixxxiii. 6, 7, 9, 10.

The Law of Retaliation. 189
and penetrated by the force of a higher common
sovereignty, bringing them into a political union under
one head. The precept implies a primitive state of
mutual animosity, and frequent wars ; the necessary
accompaniment of the fact that the nations were close
to one another, and yet two ; and in this state of
things the Israelites are to love Israelites, and to hate
Moabites, Edomites, Ammonites, and PhUistines.
Simply looking upon this precept, then, in its working
upon national feeUng, we see that it is addressed to an
early age of the world; but that, together with the
accommodation which there is in it to the division of
that age, it also tends to strengthen and compact the
union of that age. In that early stage of human pro
gress, what there was of union in different quarters
was powerfuUy developed and buUt up by contrast —
the particular state or nation being made to feel unity
by the opposition of separation ; its own concord by
the mark of its division from those around it. This
keen' sensation of disunion with others not only pre
vented its own union from splitting up, but actually
promoted and increased it ; the inward forces of the
state were the more amalgamated and gathered up,
and all its elements brought into closer agreement.
In a Tvord, this precept was, in a national sense, the
inculcation of an esprit de corps, which was the very-
bond of and incentive to union in the early ages, and
that upon which the world depended for its advance
to more regular and wider grounds of union. We see
now traces of the same character in the social sphere,
in those who combine the vfrtues and the defects of

igo The Law of Retaliation.
earUer times, and are the most generous friends, and
at the same time, as we say, good haters. This pre
cept was therefore an accommodation to an imperfect
moraUty. Taking the early esprit de corps as a whole,
with its unity and its division, it engendered a prin
cipal of national union, — the best of which the age was
capable. And when we add that to the Jew the
foreigner was also a heathen and a stranger to the
Covenant, the precept assumes not a national but a
reUgious character, and becomes a direction to the
people, in the only popular form which the spirit of
the age aUowed, to stand by thefr religion, and kfeep
up the strong sense of thefr superiority as being God's
people; and of the hatef ulness of the reUgion of the
heathen. The Jew undoubtedly exceeded the force of
the precept in the actual relation in which he put him
seff toward the rest of mankind, and in the temper
which he brought himseff to — " in that hatred of the
human race, and enmity to aU the rest of the world,"
which Tacitus, in the well-known passage notices, and
which he describes the Jews as combUung " with com
passion toward each other." ^ There was an obstinate
virulence and morbid moroseness in the actual temper
of the Jews, contracted by habit and education, and
the artificial creation of their schools, for which the
precept is not responsible; but the precept itseff
stUl inculcated that generous form of enmity to out
siders which was the natural accompaniment in early
times of love of your own body.
1 "Apud ipsos fides obstinata misericordia in promptu sed adversus
omnes alios hostUe odium." — ^Tae. Hist. v. 5, 2.

The Law of Retaliation. 191
But the enemy is not always in Scripture a
foreigner, a heathen, or one out of the Covenant.
Any one who reads Scripture wUl be struck with the
definite mention of the enemy as an individual.
Your enemy is what . may be caUed a character in
Scripture ; he has a regular place ; there are exhorta
tions given respecting him, and he is a known subject
of treatment. He is a persecutor, a foe to religion ;
but a personal enemy too, who seeks after your soul
to destroy it ; he is full of cunning, deceit, and fraud ;
under his tongue is ungodliness and vanity ; he is in-
spfred with hatred and cunning, and these are dfrected
against a personal object. Saul was the enemy of
David, but so far from being a foreigner and a
heathen, he was a Jewish king, and his own father-
in-law. Doeg and Ahithophel, against whom David
utters strong imprecations in the Psalms, were per
sonal enemies of the deepest type ; wily and maUgnant
plotters, bent on undermining David in the kingdom,
and seeking his Iffe. It is impossible that a mere
foreigner or heathen, as such, should be the object
of the feelings sometimes described in the Old
Testament toward an " enemy ; " after all, foreigners
and heathen, as such, are not real persons at all ; they
are mere representative persons, mere abstractions;
they must be real persons, who are hated in that sense
in which hatred of an enemy is sometimes understood
and deUneated in Scripture.^
' The Law is pervaded by great rules and precepts, which form ita
leading principles. EetaUation is one leading view of the Law ; that
pain and adversity are the test of the Divine displeasure, prosperity and

192 The Law ofi Retaliation.
It must be observed indeed that the "enemy"
continues to have his place in the Gospel; though
a distinct set of maxims and a different mode of
treatment are applied to him. He is a recognised
person, however, there ; and even the substitution
of "love" for "hatred" toward him, stiU treats
him as an existing personage, and a definite per
sonage, who is known to another and whom his
object is conscious of. This personage, under a later
system, does not exert the violence and the force
which he did in the Jewish ; he does not seek a man's
Ufe. If his character is to be summarily described, he
is a determined Ul-wisher ; his heart is radicaUy
affected hostUely toward another; the whole spring
of his wishes is tumed against him ; he wishes him
Ul-success, faUure, disappointment. It is this evU-
wishing which constitutes mainly an enemy ; of course
he may do actual harm ; but an habitual evU wish is
in itself an injury to another, — an injury to his peace
which he has to surmount. Malice, however, does not
stand alone in a man. It produces meanness. A man
' happiness the mark of God's good will is another leading view. But
this is compatible with single texts and isolated precepts on a different
principle ; and Scripture, when it gives the main place in it to one
rule, may occasionaUy anticipate the higher Gospel standard. Thus,
the Law reveals the rule of justice as one of retaliation ; and at the
same time Job says (chap. xxxi. 29), — " If I rejoiced at tbe destruc
tion of him that hated me, or lifted up myseU when evU found him :
neither have I suffered my mouth to sin by wishing a curse to his
soul." Thus, the Law reveals the rule of God's infliction of pain or punish
ment as proceeding from His anger, and the prosperity of man as being
the expression of His love ; and at the same time Scripture says (Prov.
iu. 12), " For whom the Lord loveth He correoteth."

The Law of Retaliation. 193
finds he cannot gratffy it by open ways, and he is
forced upon underhand and secret ones. Thus he
slides in part into the character of the Jewish " enemy,"
though a mUder form of the character. The Gospel,
I say, recognises an habitual enmity, of which the
object is an individual. One would suppose, from
the way in which some men talk, that there were no
such thing now as hating persons, or that it were con
fined to a rude class in society ; that it was a barbarous
and obsolete temper; and that now only principles
were hated, and persons only in thefr abstract character
as representing sets of principles. There could not be
a greater mistake, and the Gospel takes notice of the
rude fact of personal enmity as a real thing ; i.e., of a
state of feeling in a man towards another, which springs
in him, in the first instance, toward the person. The
individual is the goal and terminus of the feeling.
For this there are selfish, or proud, or jealous reasons ;
but it is often very mysterious how this feeling toward
another arises. We talk of animal nature in respect
of sensuality, but it would almost seem as if there were
such a thing as animal nature in respect of frrational
causeless malignity ; a hostUe spfrit to this or that
person, which is not accounted for in any cause which
appeals to a strictly rational nature ; and, however
concealed under the usual refinements of civilisation,
that such a state of mind were a shooting up of an
old low and wild instinct not amenable to reason ;
— an irrational part of the man which acts antago
nistically, and is excited without anything properly
to account for it ; so much does the effect outrun any
o

194 The Law of Retaliation.
intelligible motive which the facts of the case can
supply. Among schoolboys, whose natures act with a
rough openness, an animal propensity to hatred may
be observed, and one boy singles out another for per
sistent bullying without any assignable cause. Among
men such a source of enmity will be disguised, but it
exists in their case, and they too act from subtle and
secret frrational magnetism of enmity toward particular
persons, though this of course does not excuse it. For
persons to fall back upon a lower and base nature, is a
vileness ; reason should raise them above it. True
reason is loving. It says to itseff, Why should I hate
this man ? what reason is there ? True reason is kind,
humane ; but there is a carnal abyss in man which is
not under law, out of which the hostUe mind comes,
that, ff it have not got an object, makes one. It is
quite mysterious, sometimes, the way in which an
" enemy " rises up in a cfrcle ; the first overt sign is
far from the first commencement of him ; he has had
a secret growth before. Sometimes the subtlest and
keenest form of enmity springs out of a previous friend
ship, which only disclosed and extracted the con
trarieties in the persons' characters too accurately, and
made them know each other too well.
But, however we may explain him, an enemy is a
grave thing ; — some one who has singled another out
for evU wishes; Scripture speaks of him therefore
always with gravity, as if it were a serious thought
to any one; whUe the "enemy" is made to stand
out a defined personage, and Scripture lays its
finger on him. We value our friends' good wishes.

The Law of Retaliation. 195
indeed, more than anything they really do for us;
they are the most precious part of them; the ill-
wisher, therefore, is the most opposite to nature, and
stands out as an evil prodigy. He does in substance
what the " enemy " in Scripture does, who is repre
sented as cursing; for cursing is in substance evil-
wishing, and it is, as such, invested with so dark a
character in Scripture. There is, indeed, ff one thinks
of it, something dreadful in people wishing, keenly, as
a punishment, out of maUce to another, what in the
Divine dispensation of chastenings is designed as his
blessing. Nor is there anything so immovable, after
it has once got a certain hold of the mind, as a personal
enmity; nothing lessens it; the person himself who
is the object of it may change ever so much, it makes
no difference ; the feeling has once attached itself to
him — that person — and there it clings. There is an
obstinate depreciation which is just the same. Nor
do any outward civilities and forms of kindness on
the part of the entertainer of the feeling himself at all
affect it ; it goes untouched through them all. We
naturaUy at first connect contingency vrith persons,
and stabiUty with principles ; yet a man vdll change
what he calls his principles haff a dozen times in his
life ; yet hardly ever change a personal enmity. His
lower nature is more fixed than his higher intellectual
nature. A man's enemy was aU this under the old law, but
he was more, in proportion to the less restraint which
a less spiritual system threw upon him. Under the
Gospel, as the highest spiritual law, the enemy can

196 The Law of Retaliation.
not profess his enmity, and so is compeUed to hide it
in the corner of his heart, where it takes the form of iU
wishes, and permanent iU wishes ; but stUl is obliged,
by the spiritual nature of the law which the man pro
fesses, to abstain from active demonstration. This is
indeed often a worse state of the individual man than
his state under the Law ; because it is ofthe nature of
hatred, as of other evU, to become intenser under con
cealment ; and when a man is forced by the height of
the system he outwardly owns to faU back upon
hypocrisy, he not only acts as a hypocrite in conceal
ing his bad state of mind, but his state of mind be
comes worse by being concealed. The passion of enmity
becomes deeper and stronger. And doubtless this
peculiar result of Christianity, where it drives evU
deeper into a man's heart instead of freeing him from
the yoke, and roots it instead of extracting, is antici
pated in that remarkable text, where the evU spirit is
described as restored in aU the greater power after his
downfall — " Then he saith, I will retum into my house
from whence I came out ; and when he is come, he
findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. Then goeth
he, and taketh with himseff seven other spfrits more
wicked than himself, and they enter in and dweU
there : and the last state of that man is worse than
the first" (Matt. xU. 44). But under the old law a
man's enemy of course stood in more than the posi
tion of an Ul-wisher to him ; he was emphaticaUy a
dangerous man, and was ready any day to do him
real mischief, and indeed he might even take away
his Iffe.

The Law of Retaliation. 197
With respect, then, to this more private type
of enemy, the rule of the old law — Thou shalt love
thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy — was conceived
in the general spfrit of the law of retaliation; and
the " enemy " came under the action of that general
law; he was only an habitual foe, instead of one for
the occasion : and the precept to hate your enemy,
was, like that of retaUation, in its spirit judicial ; though
it aimed at justice through a personal medium, i.e.,
through the redress of your own wrongs. It was the
justice of an earlier age of society, when the scope
of the individual and that of the state were not so
clearly distinguished; and a high form of personal
vengeance mingled with the principle of public justice
so intimately, that they could not be wholly sepa
rated; — for it must be always remembered that the
precept assumes that the enemy is in the wrong and
that you are in the right. To a certain extent, then,
it was right that these bad natures that infested
society, and, by fastening upon individuals who lived
under thefr plots and menaces, were really the foes
of the community, should be met by the courage of
those whom they harassed and troubled; and not
only a permission but a command to the sufferer to
retaliate upon them was wanted. Because, as we
have said, it is by no means true to say universally
that men did not want a command to defend them
selves, but would do it unprompted; and that only
a <^eck upon retiibution was needed. Many of the
quieter sort, who stood in fear of bold and unscrupu
lous men, might shrink from provoking even by just

198 The Law of Retaliation.
acts of retaliation further animosity, and would re
qufre an injunction to retaliate, rather than a restraint
upon thefr retribution. On the other hand, it is
evident that a precept which did not accurately dis
tinguish between a public enemy and a private, and
aUowed resentment to act only upon a vague, though
honest impression of its own right and justice, was
a precept of imperfect morality ; and such retaliation
was constantly exposed to error, passion, and excess.
The Divine Legislator therefore in this instance took
up the justice of the age, that which was the highest
and most genuine and effective form of it at the time ;
and inserted it as a rule and precept in His own code
for the Jewish nation.
The precept, however, Thou shalt love thy
neighbour, and hate thine enemy, had a still deeper
signification, and involved a more inward and sacred
class of feelings, when the " enemy " was specially
identified with the enemy of God — a man opposed to
the spread of the Kingdom of God upon earths In
the case of David, inasmuch as his pubUc and personal
foes are the same men ; and those who wish him ill
a,lso wish ill to Zion, and are set against the estabhsh
ment of a religious kingdom of Israel, his personal
enemies are thus identified with God's enemies ; and
this combination produces the powerful and awful
damnatory expressions which we meet with in the
Psalms. The precept, when its terms are taken with
this religious light thrown upon them, is simply to
say — Thou shalt love the good and hate the bad.
But such a precept, though it bears a good Gospel

The Law of Retaliation. 199
sense, was not understood exactly in the same way
under the Law, in which it is under the Gospel. Under
the old dispensation, when a saint of God obeyed this
command, and hated his enemy in the sense of the
enemy of God, — the bad man who has taken his side
against God's kingdom, — he understood that injunction
in the sense of wishing his enemy from the very depth
of his heart the deprivation of all worldly good. The
old Law was a system of temporal rewards and punish
ments. Under it, therefore, the sunshine of prosperity
was identified with God's favour ; and it was an in
congruity and an impiety, a frightful reversal of rule
and order, — though it could not be denied that it did
occasionally happen, — ^that the wicked should enjoy
the light of God's countenance, as this life's happi
ness seemed to be. It was confusion ; it was a dread
ful contradiction and discord. The saint of the old
Law, therefore, cursed the enemy of God ; and that
was the way in which David understood and acted on
the precept to hate his enemy. For the righteous,
then, was sprung up a Ught, a joyful gladness for
such as were true-hearted ; they ate, and were satis
fied ; they sang praises unto the Lord, and lacked
nothing. But as to the enemy of God, David prayed
that he might wander upon the face of the earth an
outlaw and an outcast. He caUed down upon him
aU the pains, and every ignominy, that can affhct a
man. Let cursing happen unto him, let blessing be
far from him ; may he be condemned in the court, and
may Satan be his judge ; may he lose aU that he has,
his prayer be rejected, the extortioner grind him, and

200 The Law of Retaliation.
the stranger supplant him ; let misery be unto hun
as the cloak that he hath upon him, and as the girdle
that he is girded withal ; let his Ufe be cut short, and
his name perish. The imprecation extended to the
posterity, — that they should be vagabonds and beggars,
desolate, homeless, and fatherless, and no man even
to pity them. Hatred of the enemy of God thus
filled the fuU and terrible measure of the old Law ; it
was conceived in the spirit of the anomalous and
romantic justice of the older religious type, which
combined temporal punishment of sin with the in
clusion of the chUdren in the guilt of sin ; which
overwhelmed the whole family in one coUective
destruction with its head ; and in the sentence upon
crime did not distinguish personality. But the new
code changed aU. Christian hatred of the enemy of
God both discarded the test of temporal punishment,
and distinguished personahty. The bad man might
be prosperous in this world, and his chUdren were not
involved in his guUt. He only was guilty and de
served punishment ; and that punishment was the act
of God's future justice, and belonged to the eternal
world. The Christian could not pray for his tem
poral misfortune and misery.

LECTURE IX.
RETALIATION: LAW OF GOEL.
TN treating the law of retaliation I have reserved for
¦*- separate consideration the case of the Avenger of
Blood, under the Law of Goel, as the most conspicuous
example of the retaUation enjoined in the Mosaic code.
Here is an instance of an unwritten law of the East
which was incorporated in the Mosaic dispensation : —
as the new conditions which were annexed to it, and
by which it was partiaUy modified, show. The act of
the Goel {Note 8), therefore, was in its radical motive
an act of genuine and serious justice, it was an act of
high religious retribution, and piety to the dead ; it
was therefore at the root a moral act ; at the same time
it was an act of imperfect moraUty, because this un
written law plainly obUged the avenger of blood to
pursue and kiU without full knowledge of the facts of
the case ; which in many cases, in the absence of all
public forms of justice and regular courts, he could
not possibly learn. " No such investigation is ever
thought of by the blood-avenger," says Michaelis,^
" before he sets out on his pursuit^ nor has he indeed
any opportunity of making it, because those who are
suspected will not present themselves before his tribunal
^ Oom/mentaries on the Laws of Moses, Book iu. Art. 133.

202 Retaliation : Law of Goel.
to abide a trial of thefr guUt or innocence. He must
therefore follow mere report, or what those to whom
he gives credit tell him ; and this, too, he does under
the influence of passion." So very loose, so indis
criminating, and so wild, was the justice of the law of
Goel. If a man kUled another by accident, or ff he
killed him even in self-defence, the law aUowed for
neither of these reasons for the homicide ; but gave the
blood-avenger the fuU right to his Ufe, could he dis
cover and overtake him, the same that he would have
had to that of a deliberate murderer : — a right which
he was obliged to exercise by the law of Goel itself,
and by the popular code of honour which enforced
the law ; which was so stringent and imperious that
no man could leave his relation unavenged without
indelible disgrace.
Such being the rule of Goel, this consuetudinal law
or command was adopted by the Divine Lawgiver at
the institution of the Mosaic code, and incorporated
into the judicial or criminal law of the Jewish nation.
The command of old legal custom was continued and
maintained by the sanction of the Mosaic Law ; and
the people of God in obeying the rule of Goel obeyed a
rule which they received from the same authority from
which they received the rest of thefr law ; — an autho
rity, indeed, which had not founded the rule, but had,
upon finding it, adopted it. Those who kiUed another
either accidentaUy or in self-defence, had indeed a
right to the permanent shelter of the cities of. refuge,
to which the wifful murderer had not ; but up to the
gates of the legal sanctuary the avenger had fuU

Retaliation : Law of Goel. 203
rights under the Jewish law over both, — ^both wilful
murderer and killer by accident — and he was as much
bound to claim those rights, within the limits to which
they were subjected under a restrained law of Goel,
as he would have been to exercise them under an
unrestricted law. A check was placed by Moses
upon the operation of the old consuetudinary law ; but
before it reached that check the law was as imperative
as ever, and the avenger of blood was under a full
command to pursue the manslayer, and if he caught
him to take his Ufe. There was nothing optional in
the course marked out for the avenger of blood under
the Jewish Law ; the pursuit, with its issue, should it
be fatal or not, was prescribed and enjoined upon
him ; and the Mosaic Law in incorporating the law of
Goel deprived it of none of its stringency within the
limits within which it acted. To have inserted the
rule of Goel as an optional one indeed in the Mosaic
code, — which people might observe ff they pleased,
but which was not obligatory upon them, — would
be an impossible step for us to suppose the Divine
Lawgiver to have taken; its very incorporation
in the Jewish Law is a guarantee for the sense in
which it is incorporated, viz. not as a permission, but
as a command. What it was lawful for the avenger
of blood to do, that he must do. The law of Goel,
then, as adopted into the Mosaic Law, is an instance
of a Divine command enjoining and enforcing acts of
imperfect justice and morality, in those early times,
as distinguished from merely permitting them or con
niving at them. It was an instance in which God

204 Retaliation : Law of Goel.
acted through the medium of the moral standard of
the age, gave commands accommodated to that
medium, an4 imposed as obligatory upon people
proceedings characterised by that imperfect moraUty.
Many critics on the Old Testament morality would
indeed set down the law of Goel as almost entfrely in
spired by bloodthfrsty vengeance ; and they have a
notion of the voracious reUsh of revenge as being able
to accouiit for anything in the way of trouble, peril, or
difficul|iy, which is undertaken in the case of this law ;
that it is a motive which requires no addition, and
which entfrely extinguishes, and makes people not
reckon and hardly perceive, any combination of labour
and pain which they have to surmount in satisfying
it. This would be thefr whole notion of the law of
Goel, and they would dismiss it with this round de
scription of it. Now this may be the case in some
kinds of revenge, in such as are strictly personal, when,
e.g., the individual writhes under the sting of some
studied insult, or some violent wrong which has been
inflicted upon himself. But I apprehend that it makes
a considerable difference in the impetuosity of ven
geance whether it is for a wrong that has happened to a
man's seff, or for a wrong that has happened to another
person. To revenge another person's wrong is a very
different thing from revenging your own. To be in a
high state of indignation about what has happened to
another person, and to feel the extremity of torture
and disquiet untU you have avenged him, is, at any
rate, a condition of mind in advance upon the ordinary
motive of revenge. In the present case the wrong /lOS

Retaliation: Law of Goel. 205
happened to another person. Another person has been
kUled by somebody. But to go off in pursuit of some
body in consequence, — to commit yourself to a long
search after somebody, over rivers, across deserts,
through forests, marshes, morasses, and quagmires, up
mountains and steeps, down perUous descents, by
edges of precipices, under burning suns, vrith chance
scraps of food, and without any certain prognostica
tions of the issue, whether it may not be worse for the
pursuer than for the pursued, — this would hardly be
reckoned generally a convenient, desfrable, and grati
fying piece of business to execute. It was a consider
able task to impose upon a man. Under any circum
stances the pursuit would be a good deal of trouble ;
it involves breaking away from his family, his busi
ness, the satisfying routine of the day, the settled
duties and comforts of his ordinary Iffe. But it is for
one near of kin ; and does not that consideration
inspire the keenest ardour against vrrong, and kindle
the most burning appetite for revenge? Would it
not wholly suppress and annihUate every counter
.wish, and every selfish hesitation? But do relations
invariably impress thefr memories upon thefr sur
vivors with that powerful sweetness which makes all
labours in defence and vindication of them, rewards,
and all weariness delight ? The law of Goel does not
discriminate in this respect. The nearest of kin must
avenge the near of kin. He may have been a very
distant relation, and he may have been by no means
one who had acquired the key to his affections ; but
the law is rigid, is imperative ; he cannot hang back ;

2o6 Retaliation : Law of Goel.
to stay behind and let the criminal make good his
escape, is frrecoverable infamy and degradation, to the
nearest of kin. He must start off then in pursuit.
But it needs no strong penetration to see that there
must come under the operation of this law a great num
ber of instances in which the law was by no means felt
by the person who had to carry it into execution as
putting him in an eligible situation. There must have
been many instances in which the ex officio avenger
would not, — had the sanctity of custom and the
obligations of honour allowed him, — have obstinately
grasped at his official privilege and distinction. You
picture him to yourseff always furiously stimulated by
the passion of vengeance ; and the hot pursuit as a
pure gratification to the avenger ; but does your expe
rience of human nature indicate that men of them
selves would invariably take the violent death of a
relation so deeply to heart that they would go to the
ends of the earth to revenge it ? They would aU deshe
justice no doubt — but would they aU go off on a
knight-errant expedition to get it ? There must have
been a great many avengers of blood who in thefr
hearts would have tolerated, without absolute despair,
a temporary sleep of justice. Popular opinion obliged
them to rush hot upon the pursuit, and nothing but
an immediate chase would be suffered ; but had the
avenger been allowed to consult an easy and accom
modating disposition rather than a stern law, might
not a much sUghter investigation into the matter some
times have satisfied him? After all, human nature,
without some — more than hint — some coercion from

Retaliation: Law of Goel. 207
the fount of law, is not morosely and inexorably faithful
to the rights of the dead. Out of sight out of mind.
The gap which even violence creates is soon filled by
the roUing tide of Iffe ; and even justice acquiesces and
subsides under the pressure of fresh facts. Enough
perhaps has been done, and the matter might as weU
rest. Inquiry cannot go on for ever — ne quid nimis :
justice may be over rigid, and demand more than can
be done for her. With such reflections as these, the
thfrst for vengeance cools in the reflecting breast of
the avenger of blood ; and he contents himseff with the
ordinary double oflfice of the nearest of kin and heir ;
which is, to give his departed relative a solemn and
imposing funeral, and to enter upon the enjoyment of
his estate. Indeed, ff we throw ourselves back upon very
early times, and contemplate the situation in which
justice was placed in the case of a violent dea,th, we
shall see that it was a state of things, the necessities
of which it was by no means easy to meet. In a
civUised age this is all arranged for us, and we have
nothing to do but to use the means at hand : the
police finds out the murderer, a prison holds him, and
the court tries him. But in that primordial age, in
which there were neither police, prisons, nor courts,
and yet there was a sense of justice in the world,
what action was to be taken ? Undoubtedly it is
everybody's interest in general to avenge a murder,
but it is not enough to acknowledge that ; something
must be done now, immediately : whUe at the same
time the murderer is off, gone nobody knows where.

2o8 Retaliation : Law of Goel.
Imagine then a time before there was any institution of
Goel, — ^which armed a particular person vrith authority
for the occasion, and put the law into his hands, — and
justice is reduced indeed to a great strait ; it is not
able to do anything simply for want of an executive ;
there is no authorised ofificer of justice ; there is no
staff to start with. In this perplexity, then, a disposi
tion arises to found some primordial apparatus of
justice. But the rude ages of the world, in this very
commencement of the work of administering justice,
are disposed to take decided advantage of the diffi
culties of justice. It would be by no means true to
say that rude and violent ages were entfrely destitute
of a certain kind of moderate tactics; — an accommodat
ing temper in particular emergencies ; a disincUnation
to pushing matters to extremes, and a partiaUty for
compromises. Savage people take a practical view
of things in their own way ; they do not look far
before them ; or think of adopting any course which
will be ultimately and on a large scale beneficial, at
the cost of some temporary inconvenience ; but they
, have a notion of a convenient settlement and arrange
ment for the moment. In coming to deal, then, with
the subject of violent deaths, a view of a practical
kind rose up in rude ages, which, if there had been
any need to do so, would have expressed itself in the
case of a murder somewhat in this way : — " This is
a bad business, but another death does not mend it.
Let us come to a sensible understanding about the
matter. One thing is certain ; whatever we do now
that he is gone, we cannot bring him back again. The

Retaliation : Law of Goel. 209
gates of death have closed over our friend, and he is
where we cannot get at him ; we cannot bring him to
Iffe again by any blood that we may shed. To kill
another man, then, cannot do him any good : it cannot
do us any good. But the infliction of a heavy fine
upon the offender promises to be a reglly useful pun
ishment ; it is a retribution upon him, it is a benefit
to us ; — not an equivalent, indeed, for the great' blow
which has faUen upon us, which is not to be expected,
but a rectification so far as the case admits of it. On
the whole, and aU cfrcumstances considered, perhaps
the best compensation to enforce for our frreparable
loss is a good round sum." Something of this kind
of reasoning would seem to have founded the money-
¦ compensation for homicide, which rose up among the
Hindoos and among the Germans, with whom, Tacitus
remarks — " Luitur homicidium certo armentorum ac
pecorum numero." ^
But it is obvious that such a judicial arrange
ment as this, though it avoided the blind bloodshed
of the law of Goel, its striking at the first person
that offered, and kUling the wrong man, ff it so
happened, or mistaking his crime, could never have
sown the seed of civUised justice. For regular
justice the retributive principle was necessary, and
death for death was the only way of meeting murder ;
the only soUd preventive of it. In however rude
and uncertain a form, then, the law of Goel was
the true germ of civilised justice, which, sanguinary
for the moment, seized hold of the true judicial scope
^ Germ. 21.
P

2IO Retaliation: Law of Goel.
of security for the future ; and by the terror of death
protected human life. The fine was no help against
violence to come; and, as MichaeUs observes — "The
poor man has little security for his Iffe against the
rich, because the latter has the means of averting
retaUation, by persuading the poor, man's relations,
which will seldom be a very difficult matter, to accept
of money in Ueu of blood. "^ The fine was an oblique
and distorted aim to begin vrith. But the institution
of Goel caught up the first movement of genuine jus
tice and indignation at wrong, gave it its swing,
and put the case in its hand. With aU its hazard and
haste, it still contemplated as its object the simple
punishment of crime. The judicial aim was tme, but
acting under the greatest difficulties with respect to
evidence, and obliged to take up with the first prima
facie indications of the criminal, and the quaUty of
the crime. A tme aim, however, once rooted, gradu
ally cleared a way for its own execution ; it buUt up
the necessary structure of police, courts, and wit
nesses, and raised up the edifice of civUised justice.
And thus the Jewish Law, in adopting the institution
of Goel, imposed and enjoined an imperfect form of
justice, which, as acting under defect of evidence, was
rash and precipitate, but stUl acted as the basis and
commencement of a regular civil justice. The law of
Goel was, at any rate, a law which severed human
nature from its lethargy and indifference. With aU its
extravagance and looseness, it compelled men to ac
knowledge the claims of the dead, to avenge thefr
^ Book ui. Art. 134.

Retaliation : Law of Goel. 211
wrongs, and to punish the wrong-doer. And a law,
with such a root of nobility and justice in it, was not
unfit for adoption, as a temporary curb upon human
nature, tUl it could admit of a higher discipline by the
Divine Lawgiver, whose necessary policy, when He
gave laws to unenUghtened man, was accommodation.
So again with respect to the principle of whole
sale justice, — the subject of a previous Lecture, —
which included the family in the guilt of the criminal
himseff, and the whole of a people or nation, the
chUdren with the rest, in the guilt of the sinning and
predominant part of the nation ; this was also an
instance of a rude imperfect justice, deeply seated
in the early retributive impulse and sentiment of
mankind, which was adopted by God in His leadership
of the Jewish nation in its hostUe career against other
nations. The Israelites were commanded by God to
put that principle in practice against particular nations ;
and therefore, in these cases, God commanded acts of
an imperfect morality. But such a course of Divine
conduct is upon no reasonable principle liable to
objection. A rude imperfect sort of justice being at
that time the idea of justice which mankind had, and
that being the shape which the principle of justice
assumed in thefr minds, to lay it down that God was
not to regulate the execution of that imperfect law of
justice, — and command the appUcation of it to one
nation as distinguished from another nation, — accord
ing as it agreed with His great design regarding the
Jewish people, would be an untenable and unreason
able position. How can we exclude it from the scope

212 Retaliation : Law of Goel.
of His Providence, such being the justice of that age of
the world, to dfrect, that justice into its proper channel ;
and to put it into men's hearts by extraordinary signs
and tokens, to inflict it upon this person rather than
that person, upon this family or nation rather than
upon that ; and to watch over, and superintend ad
ministration of, an unframed and sanguinary but still
sacred law of retiibution ? Adopting, for the sake of
argument, the theory of the Quakers, and supposing
aU war to be wrong, could we stiU pronounce that war
did not come under the active providence of God ; and
that it was not within its province to cause certain wars
to be made, and to suggest and give occasion for the
undertaking of some wars rather than of others,
according as the interests of society or reUgion might
requfre ? To exclude in this way aU moral patterns
from the Divine recognition, except the perfect one,
would be simply to shut God out of the dfrection of
His own world ; because in such dfrection God must
deal with man as he is, and prompt him to do, and
impart to him the wiU to do, good actions, according
to the type and measure of goodness to which his
understanding in each age is confined. Is it an awful
solemnity then of retributive justice that God commits
to the agency of man? It must necessarUy be a
justice of the tjrpe then acknowledged in the world ;
and it must be a justice of the excessive type, ff the
occasion is extiaordinary. To command justice, and
to command that pattern of justice, is therefore in
fact the same thing ; because, for the very purpose of
justice itself, it was necessary that it should be a justice

Retaliation : Law of Goel. 213
which man could understand, and this excessive type
of justice was what he understood as justice.
This idea, as has been said, was not connected
with cruel or inhuman motives in the minds of those
who held it. There was no malice in it, no delight in
pain, no love of destruction for its own sake ; it was at
the root a genuine sense of retributive justice, only not
regulated by the strict sense of human individuality.
Was this sense of justice, then, no proper subject of
Divine regulation and direction ? God cannot indeed
sanction the audacity of a fanatic, who takes up and
revives the error of earlier justice after the enlightened
conscience of man has cast it aside ; for that which is
imperfection before the illumination is sin against light
after it. And this distinction wUl exclude from that
reUgious shelter many notorious acts of enthusiasts in
later times, as weU as some mistaken courses of policy
into which the Christian mind has been misled. But
an imperfect idea of justice, so long as it is only imper
fection, and belongs to the earUer state of man before
he has advanced in the path of truth, is moral at the
root. Do we exclude it from the Divine recognition,
as ff God could not direct it without violating His
own moral nature ? We are not fair to this early idea
of justice. It was a sacred, a strong moral idea —
struggling with confusion and mistakes, carried
off by false lights, and entangled in an intricacy
of unformed thought, which perplexed the idea of
human personality. We can hardly unthread now
this labyrinth, and clear up those curious substitutions
and transferences of identity, which are like the

214 Retaliation: Law of Goel.
reasonings of a man in a dream; or get at the sense of
those early snares and mazes in which reason was
caught, and those forms of thinking to which she bent
herself with such flexibUity, accepting their impress
and the chain of habit. Yet this was vehement
early justice, enveloped as it was, like some strong
animal, in a net by its own very force and impetuosity.
Do not take a police court to judge it by. Throw your
self back into the first ages of the world, look at its
serious, its profound sense of retribution, so fuU of fear
and awe, working itself into shape, extricating itself out
of its meshes, and clearing its ground graduaUy out of
haze and darkness ; and you wiU be able, with all its
wildness, to respect early justice. It was that excess
which made a foundation for the mean; a mere defect
and want of the passion would have been a barren
spring. God then directed into particular channels. He
appUed to the Canaanites, He appUed to the fami
lies of Korah, Dathan, and Abfram, He applied to the
family of Achan, He applied to the famUy of Saul, a
kind of justice which was the recognised justice of that
age, which formed a prominent feature of the civil law
of the age, and which the ancient Jewish people main
tained with the rest of the world ; only with the
qualification that it did not enter into thefr regular
body of law, but awaited special Divine commands.
That was the justice of the day, and that was the
justice by which the first period of the world marised
its sense of good and evil. The exclusion of such
would have been unintelligible to the age, as that

Retaliation : Law of Goel. 2 1 5
form of justice was then the natural bulwark of Divine
law. Divine commands, then, we see, no more in reaUty
compromise the moral nature of the Deity than per
missions do. On the one hand. He can no more permit,
in the sense of sanctioning, positive wickedness, than
He can command it; whUe, on the other. He can
command imperfectly right actions as much as He can
permit them. But if these commands were accommo
dations to early justice, they at the same time dfrected
and applied it to great ends, — to marking great sins,
and so to impressing the Jewish people with a sense of
the heinousness of such sins. How strongly could a
judicious and sagacious man of the world argue for the
right which he had, — and had found it expedient to
exercise,^ — of communicating a piece of knowledge in
that shape in which an inferior mind could receive it,
but which was not itseff the absolute truth I How
sensibly he would demonstrate the unavoidableness of
such a course ; with what solid force would he state
the duty to give another so much truth as he was
capable of taking in, when the narrow capacity of the
recipient precluded the communication of the whole ;
and with what discrimination would he vindicate the
distinction between pure error and partial truth !
Now the case of moral practice is quite analogous to
that of truth. Yet the man who can see so clearly
the legitimacy of accommodation in his own case, when
he comes to the case of the Divine Legislator, refuses
to aUow in Him any condescension to unenUghtened
men; and incloses the Deity in a network of casuistry

2i6 Retaliation: Law of Goel.
which precludes Him from acting in His own world.
On this rale what man is incapable of receiving must on
that very account be given him ; and God can com
mand nothing but what is perfect, whUe man can only
receive what is defective. What is an impracticable
procedure is thus alone a right one ; whatever is pos-
sible for man's guidance is wrong. Imprisoned in this
inextricable dUemma, the Deity is thus precluded from
dealing with His own world, and from taking the only
course which can be taken for educating man ; that of
sustaining an imperfect standard before he can be
raised to a perfect one. But this is tb impose on the
Deity a scrupulous and fantastic morality which
rational persons reject for thefr own conduct ; and to
make that a law to God which is fanaticism for man.
St. Augustine, when he came to the question of
Scripture criticism, upon moral grounds, adopted this
great principle — ^that which Scripture gives us, viz. that
God commands according to the state of mind of the
recipient of the command. Is he in a perverse or a
mutinous and obstinate state? The command then
becomes hostile to him by the very leaning and favour
it shows to his wickedness. Is he simply in an igno
rant state of mind foUowing the standard of the day ?
The command, then, is uot hostUe, but only pitying
and condescending. It teUs him to do what he is
equal to ; what is the best thing he can do under the
cfrcumstances. But still it is the same principle kept
up : the command follows the state of mind. God
ordinarily commands a sinner to do something right,
though He knows he will disobey Him; but He

Retaliation : Law of Goel. 217
reserves to Himseff the right, ff He think good, to
command him in judgment ; and, ff he has put himself
by his previous conduct out of the sphere of discipline
and instraction, to do what is wrong. And still more
when, in consequence of his imperfect knowledge of
right, it is necessary that he should be imperfectly
commanded, does God give imperfect commands.
Divines and commentators on Scripture have thus
sometimes erred, when they come to a difficulty in
morals in Scripture, in placing the defence of the act
criticised entirely upon the strength of a positive
command of God, without at the same time any refer
ence to the state of mind of the agent. Thus Calvin
defends the spoiUng of the Egyptians simply as having
been commanded by God : — the whole world, and all
that is in it, is God's property, and He can give it to
whom He pleases ; and from the time of the donation
it ceases to be the property of him to whom it has
hitherto belonged, and becomes the property of the
person into whose hands it has been transferred. But
although this is in the abstract undeniably true, the
mind of a man who was commanded to steal another
man's goods would be divided as to whether it was a
Divine command ; — because there would be a miracu
lous argument one way and a moral argument another,
— unless his moral state of mind were of itself an im
perfect one. The command might be given, but it
would only be obeyed if the mind itseff acquiesced in
the robbery from a defect of its own; or from the wild
and irregular standard which it had naturally got
from the age, and from the circumstances of the

2i8 Retaliation: Law of Goel.
world. The defence implies a certain laxer sense
of theft and standard of property in the person,
due to the fault of his age rather than his own,
and does not rest upon a Divine command alone.
Calvin's defence, then, of the act of the IsraeUtes
is artificial, and wants natural strength. Theo
doret is more natural, and expresses a sense of
frregular and loose justice when he says that what
they stole from the Eg37ptians at going, was only a
return for the unpaid labour they spent in building
the Pyramids. Tertullian says that it was only a
small compensation in reality for the work of the
Israelites. Chrysostom , says it was a belligerent
right ; Israel had a right to make war upon Egjrpt
for great wrongs. These explanations aU point to a
moral vindication, upon a ground of such popular
justice as was thought to be justice at that day,
rather than to a ground of positive Divine authority
proved by miraculous intervention.
The objection, indeed, which is felt to the Deity, in
the spirit of accommodation, commanding classes of
actions which are defective in moraUty, arises from
critics of the Old Testament moraUty having chosen
to represent all these species of actions as not only im
perfectly moral, but as positively bad. Thus, critics
of a certain school have chosen to characterise aU
those actions of excessive justice which have been
described as wholly bloodthirsty, vindictive, selfish,
and barbarous, in thefr object and motives. They
set down all this early action of mankind to simple
inhumanity ; then they say, How can we suppose the

Retaliation: Laiv of Goel. 219
Deity commanding such practices as these ? They see
no moral element in them, only the outbreak of hateful
passion. They see in retaliation only impetuous re
venge ; they see in the law of Goel only the violent
thfrst for blood ; they see in the exterminating wars
of the Old Testament only the savage success of rapine
and slaughter. They have no notion of such actions,
except such as is described in these terms ; and then
they say. How can God command such actions ? Is
it not inconsistent with His attributes to do so?
But before critics of Old Testament morality object
upon these grounds to the Deity commanding
in early ages those actions, they should ffrst of
•aU be sure that they do not themselves grossly
depreciate and misrepresent such actions; that they
do not misunderstand them; that the picture they
have of them before thefr minds is not the coarsest
daub ; and that by thefr gratuitous assumptions they
have not altogether dispossessed themselves of the
moral key to those actions. Such wholesale con
demnation shows an exceedingly false estimate of
these early practices and proceedings. This early
action of the sacred people was m truth inspfred,
in the substance of it, with a sense of justice, and
with hatred of crfrne ; it was impregnated with high
feeUng, vindication of right, protection of weakness,
reverence for the dead ; though there was excess
and confusion in it,— people not discrimmatmg
accurately, and rushing unpatiently into satisfying
a rude appetite for just punishment. Especially,
to set down the retributions of the Israelitish code

220 Retaliation: Law of Goel.
simply to sanguinary motives, is to do total wrong
to the first great reachings after civU justice in the
world, — to those wUd and frregular but still noble im
pulses which formed a barrier for the weak against the
strong. Although for God to command simple cruelty
and simple revenge is impossible, and such an idea
must be rejected as horrible ; it was not unfitting to
Him, rather it was most meet and most suitable to
His divine benevolence, — ^in indulgence to man's infir
mity and slow moral growth, — to sustain the imper
fect mdimental forms of the great institutions of civU
justice. That righteous power in the community,
grand in its maturity, was noble also in its birth ; it
was great even in infancy; we cannot despise, we cannot
pity, we can only reverence, the early straggles of that
great principle, as with effort, against infinite obsteuc-
tions, and in the absence of all external resources and
appliances which it had itseff to create ; — with the very
moral sense rushing with early haste and impetuosity
prematurely to its object, and almost enlisted against
justice, — this sacred passion fought its way to stabUity,
and to that steady supremacy which it afterwards
attained in the state. There is, at its very first rise
and commencement, the augury of the future edifice ; a
strength which shows that it will get the mastery.
There is in truth, in the mere fact of such accommo
dating legislation, a pledge impUed on the part of the
Divine Legislator that He wiU provide, together with
it, an education of higher scope to lead to a more per
fect standard ; but what is more, this pledge is ful-

Retaliation : Law of Goel. 2 2 1
fiUed. The Jewish dispensation, as a whole, does
gradually elevate the moral sense of the nation, tiU it
is prepared for the reception of the Christian code; and
the highest sample of the nation does in fact receive
that code, and spread it through the world. And
though some may deny that such a result was due to
anything but the natural growth of human reason, —
which they may say fuUy accounts for it, without
the need of a special revelation; — on the contrary,
the singularity of this whole issue, unexampled as it
was in the world, and without a paraUel in any other
nation, shows that there was some peculiar power at
work in the Jewish dispensation, and that the people
had been under a special educating Providence. But
this wUl be the subject of another Lectm-e.

LECTURE X.
THE END THE TEST
OF A PROGRESSIVE REVELATION.
BUT it wiU be said that upon the estimate of the
moral standard of the Old Testament revelation,
arrived at in the foregoing Lectures, we describe
revelation as only giving men those commands which
men give themselves. It vriU be said, What is the
use of a revelation which only does this ? The very
use of a revelation, it wUl be urged, is to give men
a higher standard than what they have by nature.
If the Jewish revelation, then, did not do this, but
only adopted and imposed the existing highest moral
level, what more did it do for man than man had
afready done for himseff? and how was a revelation
any advantage which only established what had been
estabUshed without a revelation ? If man was not fit
for a higher law, and ff that excuses the low standard
of revelation, it is stUl unexplained what use a low
revelation is, which only takes man and provides for
him at his present level.
But a progressive revelation, such as the Jewish,
may adopt for its present use the highest imperfect
moral standard of the age, as embodied in particular
rales and precepts, and may yet contain an inner

The End the Test. 223
movement and principle of growth in it, which wUl
ultimately extricate it as a law out of the shackles of
a rudimentary stage. In the Jewish dispensation there
was something besides, over and above the actual letter
of the law, which accompanied the dispensation. The
actual letter, indeed, was a rise above the established
popular standard, as the checks upon the law of retali
ation and the law of Goel show. But there was also
a principle of progress in the system, over and above
the letter; an inner spfrit and movement in it, a
standing guidance which tended strictly in one dfrec
tion. The worship of the one true God was in itself
the great purffying and elevating principle of the
system ; drawing the heart and understanding upward,
and giving a tendency toward ascent and advance to
all the true moral elements in man. The dispensation
itself looked out of itself ; it looked forward. It con
fessed its own shortcomings ; it owned itseff a prepa
ratory and mdimental structure. This was the standing
prophecy which inhabited the older dispensation, and
did not belong only as an individual gift to particular
persons, but abode like a guiding spfrit in the nation ;
inspiring it with a sense of an end beyond its present
state, a goal in the distance towards which it was
advancing. The vision of the pious Jew overlooked the
immediate prospect of his nation, to fix upon a remoter
horizon which was Uluminated by a mysterious glory,
and gleamed with a knowledge and perfection of which
he had no accurate conception, but which stUl raised
the future above the present day of the nation, and
represented the latter only as a journey toward that

224 The End the Test of
future day. And the same prophetical spfrit in the
people was also the teacher of the people. An instruc
tion was going on in the Jewish nation throughout its
whole course, — the instruction, not of the outward law,
but of an inward mind, a spiritual inteUigence, which
maintained its place, and taught, ex cathedra, in the
Jewish church, inspfring and Uluminating a long suc
cession of prophets, who in their turn revealed and
expounded its lessons to the people. In a word, the
Jewish nation was under a special Providence, not
only with regard to its written Law but also with
regard to a special spfritual intelligence which had
its seat and taught in the nation throughout the
whole period of the Law. Under this providential
guidance, the eternal principles of the Law were extri
cated from its temporary structure, the true from the
passing morals : — ^the reason and conscience of the Jew
were enlightened to the perception of what was right
and wrong.
If, then, there is something great and singular
in the end, the end shows the design of the system ;
that it was more than a documentary code ; that there
was a Uving guide in it, working in a special dfrection
aU the time that it was making use of an imperfect
standard and imperfect law. It is true, then, un
doubtedly, that a Divine dispensation could not con
descend to adopt an imperfect moral standard as a
temporary one, unless it undertook the responsibUity at
the same time of elevating the people by education
up to a true standard ; but this is just the thing that
was done. A prominent feature of the Jewish dis-

a Progressive Revelation. 225
pensation was its mde public justice ; but while the
Divine dispensation accommodated itseff to a defective
idea of justice, it was at the very same time eradicat
ing it : it was laying deep in the human mind at the
very time the foundation of an enlightenment, which
would utterly supplant that defective idea of man
upon which that faulty justice arose, and put in its
place the true spfritual idea of human individuality.
The whole question of what belongs to the individual,
what power one man has over another, the whole
question of the " rights of man," has been one of
slow growth. The whole scheme of modern thought
on this subject is a late formation. The judicial sense
which settles these points is comparatively new. A
whole cycle was necessary to be gone through, a long
period of education, before this principle got hold of
the world ; and when it did, it came out of revelation.
For out of no phUosophy under the sun has the idea
of the " rights of man " issued. PhUosophers laid it
down very strongly that phUosophers were great men
— that they were " kings ; " but man as such was not
great in thefr eyes. It may be true that Epictetus
says this, and that some other philosopher says that ;
but what came of anything they said ? Did they do
anything? Were thefr words more than passing
shadows, or the two or three feeble beatings of a pulse
which had no Ufe in it ? They were hardly even pro
tests ; and for any force they had the world might have
gone on in its old way tUl now. Even the sanguinary
sport of the gladiatorial shows was not interrupted by
them, and it was not a heathen phUosopher, but a
Q

2 26 The End the Test of
Christian devotee, who leapt into the cfrcus, and by
the protest of his death stopped that one triumph and
exaltation of Satan. And the aberrations of justice
would not have been corrected either. Darius might
have gone on casting the wives and chUdren to the
Uons, and Nebuchadnezzar might have continued to
convert men's houses into dunghUls, for aUything these
men would have done. But in the Bible there is an
idea — an idea which is absolutely inconsistent with
this of making one man belong to another, and treating
him as the appendage to another. It was an idea
which could not be kept down, but must work its way
upward, so as to produce at last true justice ; it was
the idea of man as having a soul. If he had a soul,
he could not be part of another man, and he must be
himseff, and no one else. It was this frrepressible
germ of true justice and true freedom which was
given in the Old Testament. Moses could not go on
imagining that he was the appendage to another man,
when he himself stood face to face with God, when he
could pray to Him, intercede with Him; when he
knew that he had power with God. This discovered
man to himself, this showed him what he was, this
must make him great in his own eyes ; he must gain
a different estimate of himself; he was great though'
guilty, nay, and even his guUt was like some dark
background, upon which his greatness stood out ; for
his consciousness how much he feU short of his own
standard only revealed the exceUence of his own tjrpe
and design. That he was in relations to the Universal
Being gave him a substantial being, and certified it to

a Progressive Revelation. 227
him: communion with God was communion with
himseff ; he penetrated into himseff, and religion
unlocked the interior of his soul and brought its
secrets into light ; he knew himseff and his own value ;
that he was not the creature of accidents, — mere spray
from the unceasing tide of time, which rose up in the
afr and vanished, — but that there was something sub
stantial in him.
History, and we may add the drama, has unfolded
in its own way the greatness of man ; but it has
only done this for certain men — great actors on the
stage of Iffe. In the eye of revelation every man
is great, — bom for eternity, and an eternity of glory.
It was impossible, when this idea of himself had
been matured in man, that it should not have its
effect upon the dvU, status of man : he was no ap
purtenance, no appendage, no belonging, but he was
himseff. Such justice as the early justice of the world,
which has been previously considered, became an im
possibUity ; one man could not be punished for another
man's sins ; and the human mass stood on a higher
level with respect to civU rights and freedom generaUy.
There is a sense which is neither fanatical nor
carnal, in which the Bible may be said to be the
charter of human rights ; it has endowed man with
an individuaUty which he can never lose, and which
rulers must respect. The governments of the old
world and the new rise upon different bases. The
old empfres were founded upon the depreciation of
man ; he was told he was a nobody, that he was a
piece of property, that he had no rights ; and being

2 28 The End the Test of
told it, he believed it ; for weak man estimates himself
according as others estimate him. Let everybody
about a man conspire to put him down, and he is put
down, he is lowered in his own eyes. It is hard for a
man's sober persuasion, however easy for his infatuated
vanity, to resist an extemal impression. He has to
keep up a standing appeal to reason against the force
of assertion, which is always difficult ; he has to do
without that surrounding and confirming voice which
relieves the inward act of judgment. A man distrusts
his own assertion the next moment, ff haff-a-dozen
people about him deny it with sufficient positiveness
— unless he knows his ground well. The force of out
ward opinion acts like a shock, and overthrows us
immediately, unless we have a solid ground of tmth
in ourselves to resist it. Ancient empfres, then, were
founded upon the insignificance of man ; even the so-
caUed democracies of the old world were in trath
oligarchies built upon the degradation of the mass.
On the other hand, the governments of the new world
are founded upon the high idea of man, as a being
who has substance, rank, and rights. Nor is this the
character of one form of government only, but of all
the civilised governments of modem times, whether
democratic or despotic in form ; aU recognise man as a
being who has rights, and profess to legislate for the
interests of the mass. It would be doing injustice to
the most rigid European despotism to put it at aU on
a par with an ancient empfre on this head ; the two
are based upon altogether a different standard of what
is due to the mass of the people. But out of no

a Progressive Revelation. 229
phUosophy has this high estimate of mau as such
come : it has come straight from revelation. There,
in the relation of man to God, is the origin of this
great change of rank. PhUosophy did not put man in
commuiUon with God, because the deity of philosophy
was no object of worship, and there was no rank
gained by communion with idols ; but communion
with the Universal Being gave man position, exalted
him, and clothed him with honour.
What a vast body indeed of phUosophy, poetry,
and literature has the Bible formed, of which this
sentiment regarding man is the ruling and animating
idea. I do not refer to writings avowedly expository
or iUustrative ^ Scripture, but to what we caU secular
Uterature. j4 s a philosopher, e.g., Pascal's writings come
under that head. We know the force and majesty of
the Thoughts of Pascal ; the realms of space and the
worlds in them are fuU of grandeur in his philosophy,
but there is one thing compared with which aU this
vast material universe is nothing. " All the bodies,
the stars, the firmament, the earth and aU its king
doms, are not worth one soul; for that soul knows
both itseff and them, and they know nothing."
The human soul thus stands apart and by itseff
as the one thinking substance, but it does not stop
at this stage and level. Charity is above thought.
Charity is supernatural; and he who has it has the life
supernatural and immortal. Thus in the universe
sphere rises above sphere. Thought and charity are
each sui generis. Thought is of an order and kind
above matter ; charity is of an order and kind above

230 The End the Test of
thought. AU the matter in the world could not pro
duce one thought ; aU the thought could not produce
one instance of charity. " La distance infinie des corps
aux esprits, figure la distance infiniment plus infinie des
esprits k la charitl." But man was designed to tran
scend this infinite space and attain the summit. The
idea of the greatness of man — grandeur de I'dme
humaine — thus penetiates the phUosophy of Pascal.
He pauses to look at this being at each of these two
stages of his progress. Ffrst he contemplates him as a
thinking being — " Pensiefait la grandeur de I'homme.
... La grandeur, des gens d'esprit est invisible, aux rois,
aux riches, aux capitaines, k tous ces grands de chafr."
Then he contemplates him in the supernatural character
— "dans son ordre de saintet^." "Les saints n'ont
nul besoin des grandeurs charnelles ou spfritueUes."
Nevertheless, though great in his faculties, and great in
the end for which he was made, man lives at present a
life of misery and exUe " like a dispossessed monarch."
The very proof of his greatness lies in his misery, for
were he not bom for higher things he would not be so
dissatisfied vrith lower. He thus derives a sense of
elevation even from that very sadness ; at any rate
he knows that he is wretched, and that he knows it,
is evidence of the superiority of his nature. The
chapter of fragments upon the " Grandeur et nus^re
de I'homme" concludes with the words, "Let man
estimate himself at his true value, honour himseff in
his capacities, despise himself in his neglect of those
capacities." '
^ Peiu&s de Pascal. Ed. Faugere, vol. ii. pp. 90, 330.

a Progressive Revelation. 23 1
This idea of the greatness of man has thus become
a part of modern phUosophy, and we see that the idea
has a deep phUosophical basis in Pascal's mind. Yet
Pascal's thought is only Scripture put into a philoso
phical shape, and we have the whole idea of the " gran
deur de I'homme " in one text — " What is a man pro
fited, ff he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own
soul ? or what shaU a man give in exchange for his
soul ? " 1 And thus it is that some minds cast in a
philosophical mould, and partially disabled for seeing
truth except in that shape — ^rendered somewhat caUous
too to the deep sense of Scripture by familiarity with
the bare letter — are introduced to Scripture first
through Pascal. He translates the Bible into the
language of philosophy. Then, when they turn to
Scripture again, they recognise the fount of Pascal,
the type and original of his great thoughts. The in
spfred page then assumes new Ufe and freshness in
thefr eyes, and the triumph which his sharp weapons
gave to the honest conscience over the hypocritical and
carnal, is renewed more vividly upon the field of Scrip
ture — ^more vividly, because the most beautfful and
keenest phUosophical truths derived from Scripture,
are not equal to the plenary Ufe, strength, and darted
thoughts of the original.
That the modem world, however, — ^^its govern
ments, phUosophy, literature, — should have been formed
so largely as it has upon one Scriptural idea, is not so
remarkable, perhaps, as another thing, viz. that an
immense body of infidel literature and phUosophy has
1 Matt. xvi. 26.

232 The End the Test of
been formed upon this same idea. It is indeed an
extraordinary anomaly, that a tiuth for which we are
indebted to Scripture alone has become the very
watchword of infidelity, and that the enthusiasts of
unbelief, its poets, dreamers, and poUtical agitators,
should have gone mad upon an idea which is histori
caUy the gfft of Eevelation to mankind — ^the greatness
of man as such. It has been the special cry of the
revolutionist, that it is not as a king, as a noble, as a
star of refined Ufe, even as a cultivated and educated
person only, that man is great ; that he is great in
himself; that every man has in him the dignity and
exceUence of human nature, and is an independent
being, and has inaUenable rights ; that every man has
it in him to be " crowned King of Lffe." The mind
of the infidel poet has kindled at this truth : —
" Yon sun,
Lights it the great alone ? Yon silver beams,
Sleep they less sweetly on the cottage thatch
Than on the dome of kings ? Is mother earth
A step-dame to her numerous sons, who earn
Her unshared gifts with unremitting toil 1 " *
" Yet every heart contains perfection's germ :
The wisest of the sages of the earth,
That ever from the stores of reason drew
Science and truth, and virtue's dreadless tone.
Were tut a weak and inexperienced boy,
Proud, sensual, unimpassioned, unimbued
With pure desire and universal love,
Compared to that high being, of cloudless brain,
Untainted passion, elevated will,
^ Shelley's (^ueen Mab, iii. p. 17, ed. 18.53.

a Progressive Revelation. 233
Which death (who even would linger long in awe
Within his noble presence, and beneath
His changeless eyebeam) might alone subdue.
Him, every slave now dragging through the filth
Of some corrupted city his sad life,
Pining with famine, swoln with luxury,
Blunting the keenness of his spiritual sense.
With narrow schemings and unworthy cares,
Or madly rushing through all violent crime,
To move the deep stagnation of his soul, —
"Might imitate and equal." '
Had the poet been asked whence he got this idea
of man, this sense of the dignity of every man, of how
much there was in him, and what was due to him, he
could not have pointed to a single ancient phUosopher
as his teacher. The ancient world had no such idea ;
and had such a notion been suggested to one of its
luminaries, he would have scouted it as visionary and
fantastic. The poet has got this idea out of the Bible,
however reluctant he might be to own it. It does not
exist elsewhere, but only in revelation and the deri
vatives from revelation. This is a matter of fact. We
know the history of this idea as we know the history
of a scientific idea, of a discovery or invention. The
poet, then, may denounce revelation, but he uses it. It
has taught him, it has inspfred him. It has imparted
to bim that conception which is the stimulus to his
powers, and around which aU the treasures of his
exuberant fancy coUect. And indeed, though cut
away from its root, severed from the parent stock of
tiuth, and exiled, this great idea stUl retains the traces
1 Queen Mab, v. pp. 26, 27, ed. 1853.

234 The End the Test of
of its bfrth. It is a noble and an inspiring thought,
but at the same time it is an anarchical one. It swells
with tempestuous pride and wilfulness, in the place of
that resignation which tempers its strength and vigour
upon its own natural ground. Yet it is instructive
to see how fuU the world has become of this idea
of humanity when once disclosed ; how it exults
in it, and cannot contain itseff. As soon as the
truth is caught, it is taken up and absorbed into the
vortex of human speculation and passion. It is
refracted through a thousand mediums, and but too
often glares with a sinister and distorted Ught, in
furiating and not elevating the mass ; but stUl, how
ever coloured by human thought, it has taken posses
sion of the world, and divides ancient from modern
society by an unsurmountable boundary.
So large has been the fruit which that first trath
of revelation, the communion of man with God, has
bome, in affecting the relation of man to man, and in
improving his civil interests. And thus, though in
certain particular Divine interpositions in the Old
Testament history, God accommodated His deaUngs to
a defective and debased idea of human individuality,
(as when He commanded the famUy or nation to be
included in the same punishment with its guUty head),
He was at the very time, in the great foundation of
His revelation, educating man in the highest trath
upon this very subject ; and implanting in him that
tme idea of himself which was destined to produce
the whole edifice of modern society and of civU justice.
In human affafrs this is considered to be the highest

a Progressive Revelation. 235
wisdom: — to accommodate instruction for the occa
sion, to the imperfect knowledge of the learner, at
the same time that you implant a seed of more perfect
knowledge. And the same mle appUes to the Divine
dispensations. WhUe the old type of justice was
being executed, the new work of man's education was
bemg carried out. A law was given and a discipline
was laid down for this purpose. The Law contained
that very tmth of the relationship of man to the one
trae God which was ultimately to raise him ; and this
truth was the sum and substance of the Law. The
Law then contained the source and secret of man's
future elevation.
But before the Law had worked its end it had in
the meantime to be maintained and enforced. The
Jewish people chafed under the yoke. The history of
the nation throughout shows that the Law was really
above the great mass, that it contained principles too
subUme for them. It is a history of long lapses of the
main body of the people into idolatry, into which they
feU because they could not rise to the idea of the
communion of the creature with his Maker, of man
with the Universal Being ; they could only imagine
relationship to inferior invisible beings, or gods whom
they clothed vrith material form. The downward
tendency to idolatry was the potent and foraUdable
danger which kept the true faith and the true concep
tion of God constantly trembling upon the verge of
utter suppression, and with difficulty just emerging
above the flood of corruption : whUe it was essential
to the Divine purposes that that faith should stand,

236 The End the Test of
and stand not only as the faith of some individuals
but as the national faith. The nation, therefore, was
terrified into a formal obedience by every scourge
that the Divine vn-ath could employ, and every form
of wholesale punishment, which included famiUes in
the guilt of fathers, subjects in the guUt of thefr
kings. But the purpose of such judgments was to
subjugate man to that law which was ultimately to
purffy and elevate him, and to keep in existence the
precious seed ofthe future enlightenment of the world.
There was a scheme, a purpose, an end in view, in the
whole terrific preparatory discipline of the Law. It
was administered in order to bow the stubborn neck
of man, and keep it from slipping from under the
yoke. Under the Law he must, in spite of himself,
improve ; once severed from it he was a lost being.
The enforcement of the Law was thus the task of one
dispensation, though its fruits were shown under
another. It is evident, then, that a progressive revelation —
if the idea of such a revelation is once admitted^
must be judged by its end and not by its beginning.
We see before us a legislative stiucture, straight from
the hands of the original Lawgiver, containing a body
of ancient rules and precepts, obviously partaking of
the spirit of the age in which they came out, and re
flecting an early moral standard. We then caU this
the morality of the Old Testament dispensation. But
according to any rale of judging in such cases, the
moraUty of a progressive dispensation is not the
morality with which it starts, but that with which it

a Progressive Revelation. 237
concludes. The test is not the commencement but
the result. Whatever it is in which the system results,
and which by its own natural course it reaches, that
is the standard of the dispensation. Because from the
final result we infer the intention, and the intention
makes the morality of the dispensation. By the
gradual creation of a perfect standard, the wUl of
the dispensation from the first is declared to have
been in favour of it. There is a side, indeed, on
which, in the nature of the case, it exhibits a defec
tive morality, because there is a side on which it is
stationary. The litera scripta manet; the written
code necessarUy always continues to give the original
precepts as they stood, and ff any of these are cast in
the rude spfrit of the early ages of the dispensation, its
rade and imperfect moral standard is so far stereotjrped.
Upon the side of the external written letter it is rude
and imperfect. On this side it continues for ever,
in the nature of the case, to point backward for its
moral criterion ; but the living teacher, the guiding
spirit in the system, from the first, points forward,
and is throughout of that moral character which
it wUl ultimately establish. This active essence of
the dispensation is throughout in sympathy with
its latest production. Do not judge it then, by
the stationary letter, but by the principle of pro
gress which is evidently rooted and inherent in it ;
by that inner movement, by that dominating and
persevering tendency, which is the vital spfrit of it,
and which finaUy overcomes the temporary and pass
ing elements.

238 The End the Test of
Whether the imperfect morality of the Old Testa- ,
ment dispensation is a correct expression or not,
depends in short upon what you mean by the dis
pensation. If you mean the document of the dispen
sation, it is imperfect morality ; ff you mean the
design in the dispensation, the moraUty of that design
is Christian morality. Taking the highest sample of
the nation as the proper representative of it, regarded
as the pupU of a Divine guidance, we see the Jewish
people, under the teaching of thefr dispensation, so
advanced in coui'se of ages in the moral faculty, that
they at length embrace and grasp the fuU Christian
morals ; that they preach this moral standard through
out the world ; and that it thus becomes ultimately
the standard of the whole of civilised mankind.
When you talk then of the imperfect and mistaken
morality of the Old Testament dispensation, ask
yourseff, to begin with, what you mean, and what
you intend to assert by that expression. Do you
mean to say that the written law was imperfect?
If that is all, you state what is simply a fact ;
but this fact does not touch the moraUty of the
Lawgiver ; because He is abundantly fortified by
the defence that He could give no higher at the
time to an unenlightened people. Do you mean
to assert that the scope and design was imper
fectly moral ? In that case you are contradicted by
the whole course of history. Look at the Jewish
Dispensation as being a working system, look at it as
an actual instructor at work for ages upon the nation
under it. How does its work turn out? How is

a Progressive Revelation. 239
the pupU brought up ? What is the moral standard
in which this course of education issues ? That
question has been just now answered, and that
question decides the scope of the dispensation. The
imperfect standard of the original code and nation
can only be made a charge by a confusion of mind.
You blame in the Old Testament dispensation, i.e., in
its Author, what ? The moral standard he permits ?
It is the highest man can then receive. The moral
standard he desires ? He desfres a perfect moral
standard, and ultimately estabhshes it. Thus, be
tween the two goals of the dispensation, its com
mencement and its end, your charge faUs to the
ground, or strikes the afr. You bring out vrith
all your power the actual moral condition of the
Jewish nation, how mde it was; how coarse, how
blind and indiscriminating its moral perception :
and you think the facts of themselves condemn
the revelation ; that the low condition of the people
condemns the Lawgiver; but the Lawgiver is not
responsible for the material he has to work upon,
the system is not to blame for the rudeness of the
people it has to correct. The material of accusa
tion is thus made by the 'mental confusion of the
accuser, and at the fiirst clear sight vanishes into
afr. Rather the material of accusation becomes
itseff evidence of the Divine power in the sys
tem, and the guarantee to its authority. You
expatiate upon the actual crudities of the Jewish
morality, as ff the dispensation were accountable for
them ; but ff it in fact overcomes them, aU the rough-

240 The End the Test of
ness of the material which it conquers only redounds
to its glory.
" But," it will be said, " the cmde and imperfect
nature of Jewish morals is a plain fact of Scripture
history itself, whUe this running design and inner
current of the dispensation is only an interpretation
put upon Jewish history by theologians. It is tiue,
the Jewish nation graduaUy grew out of a rude and
barbarous state, and attained to a certain civiUsation ;
and with that civiUsation came a finer moral standard ;
but this was not the result of the dispensation they
were under, but due only to the natural growth and
expansion of reason. The moral standard of the dis
pensation is before us in black and white, and that
was a very defective one, and sanctioned vengeance
and bloodshed on a large scale ; the people, or the
higher minds among them, at last outgrew this moral
standard by the force of reason. This is the natural
and rational account of the progress of the Jewish
nation, and of the high morality which at last issued
out of that nation. But to attribute this result to
the inner working of a dispensation whose written
code was marked by plain defects and shortcomings,
is mere speculation, and by no means probable specu
lation." To this the answer is, that other nations of the
world, beside the Jewish, began with an imperfect and
crude moral standard; but, of aU these nations we
observe that, as they began so they ended. Hindu
law, Eoman law, Greek codes of law, aU led thefr
respective communities a certain way in morals, but

a Progressive Revelation. 241
they aU stopped short of any true development in
morals. They never became active inspiring teachers
of the people under them, — seeds of enlightenment
and advancement. Look at Spartan law ; has it the
sUghtest spring or elasticity in it ? or has it anything
approaching to a principle of growth in it ? It per
forms a certain set of motions like an automaton ; its
whole power is restricted within a certain area of
public military virtue, and it has no inward self-moving
power by which it can transcend its original limits.
This is perhaps an extreme case. But Eoman law, as
a moral law, works in chains ; it cannot liberate itseff
from its own inflexible adherence to the type of slavery,
and from those barbarous definitions of personal rights
which left no station but a servile one to wife or son ;
thus degrading society at its fountainhead of famUy
lffe. The Eoman law remained essentially savage
tiU Christianity released it and set it free from its
bonds. It could not free itseff; it could not make
the wffe a free woman and at the same time give
her the sanctity of marriage, but could only con
fer freedom on her at the cost of Ucense, by the
exchange of marriage for a contract which let in in
definite divorce. Hindu law has not raised itseff. In
other nations, then, the ideas of justice, benevolence,
purity, stay at an incipient stage, and never become
more than haff ideas; in the Jewish alone is there
moral progress, — an advance, which begins and goes
steadUy on unchecked, tiU it reaches the New or
Christian Law. In the Jewish nation alone the Law
acts not only as a document, but as a guiding prin-

242 The End the Test of
ciple in the nation. There it is a Ught, a teacher ; it
does not abide within its letter only, but comes out in
the shape of comment or interpretation to suggest and
inspire. It is accompanied and guarded by the great
Prophetic order, which carries on, in conjunction with
the Law and in check upon it, a standing guidance and
teaching. There is a moral element in the dispen
sation which has an intrinsic and overruling force of
its own, a free unstunted growth, by which it arrives
at its completion.
But exception may be taken, last of aU, to the
fundamental assumption upon which this whole argu
ment has been based ; — upon the very idea, to begin
with, of a progressive revelation. " Natural reason," it
may be said, " is, as everybody admits, and as we know
by experience, slow and gradual in its processes, it
requires time for developing and maturing itseff, and
it only gains possession of truths after a succession of
trials and delays ; but why should a Divine revelation
be subject to such conditions as these ? Is not a reve
lation given for the very purpose of supplying the
deficiencies of reason ? But if so, why, when it is
given, does it exhibit these very deficiencies ? If reve
lation is as slow and dilatory as reason, is it indeed
revelation at aU, or is it simply reason operating all
the time? For what can be the meaning of the
Divine Being instituting an exception to His ordinary
providence, if the exception after all follows the pattern
of the mle ? what reason can there be why an Omni
potent Being should not communicate what He has to
communicate summarily, and by one act? There is

a Progressive Revelation. 243
that in man, by his fundamental constitution, to which
a truth can be imparted ; his reason is in him by
nature. AVhy is not a truth, which is capable of being
apprehended, not imparted to that reason at once ?
And are not such truths as these capable of being-
apprehended immediately ? — say the Christian law of
marriage, that a man should have but one wffe ; — Chris
tian justice, that a man should be punished only for
his own fault. These truths are perfectly plain truths
if they are truths at all ; and revelation is able to give
man the proper guarantee that they are truths ; and
ff he knows them to be such, what has man to do
but to set about practising them ? Why then should
God not reveal what He has to reveal at once ? Why
should He purposely deal out His instruction piece
meal, and postpone what He can give immediately, and
let a special revelation stand over centuries, which could
have been given at the commencement ? A progres
sive revelation is itseff an inconsistent transaction, and
the very idea of it cannot be admitted. For if there
is power to possess man with a certain moral truth
now, at this moment, by a summary act of Divine
grace, aU ground why the knowledge should be put off
is gone, and you are left without a reason to account
for the delay."
This, then, is the objection raised. But here an
argument opens upon us, founded on the nature of
man as God created him, which necessitates the use
of language imposed upon us by our ignorance. When,
then, we speak of the omnipotence of God, we do not
mean that He can simply and nakedly do anything that

244 The End the Test of
can be stated in words. It is an attribute with con
ditions ; I mean that is the mode in which we express
it in language. God can no more force an immediate
moral enUghtenment upon an existing age, and antedate
a high moral standard by two thousand years, than He
can instantaneously impart a particular character to an
individual. He has endowed man with inteUectual
faculties of a certain kind, which move in a certain
way, and with a gradual progressive motion requiring
time. He cannot impart to him a truth in such a way
as contradicts that institution of the understanding,
and communicate in a moment that which, by the
laws of his being, can be only received slowly and
by degrees. The natural motion of the human under
standing is by steps and stages ; after one effort it is
weary, sinks back exhausted, and cannot go farther just
then, but rests : and there is a pause in the progress
untU another impulse comes, and another step is
made ; and thus the work is accomphshed graduaUy,
and some large and complete trath is at last arrived
at. To suppose the Deity, then, imparting in a
moment some ultimate truth which experience shows
requires time for men to embrace, is to suppose
Him imparting the truth in a way which contra
dicts those very laws which He has Himseff laid
down in the constitution of the being with whom
He is deaUng.
The understanding of man, again, moves by the
action of the wiU ; it cannot be raised to the compre
hension of any great truth without a succession of acts
of attention, and the wUl must keep up attention.

a Progressive Revelation. 245
The wiU and the understanding, then, cannot be sepa
rated in the advancement of the human mind in truth,
and in the progress of revelation. But can the Divine
power contiol the human wUl in its coUective aspect
any more than it can in its individual? Can it
dictate the mode of taking in a revelation, any more
than it can secure individual conduct ? The question
respecting the immediate comprehension and accept
ance of a revelation is very much analogous to the
question of human action and its subjection to the
Divine power ; the possibUities in conducting revela
tion are much akin to the possibilities of dictation to
the human wiU. The whole question comes in, of the
relations of the Divine power to the human wUl.
Here, then, we are launched upon a fundamental
difficulty. The vrill of the human race influences the
understanding of the human race in its mode of taking
in a revelation. A revelation is accepted readUy
when it concurs with men's wishes, but the under-
stauding, when separated from the inclination, stops
short, and refuses to exert itself. Can the fact, then,
that it is a revelation reverse this slowness in the
understanding ? — ^this slowness which is produced by
want of incUnation ? There is no more reason to sup
pose that it can in the human race at large than
that it can in an individual : that the mind of the
race can be enlightened by an instantaneous act of
Divine omnipotence, than the mind of an indiridual
can be. Nor is there any more reason to suppose that
an frtdividual's mind can be enlightened aU at once by
an act of revelation, than that a man's conduct can be

246 The End the Test of
made good aU at once. The Divine power can assist
the individual ; and yet the individual has a wiU that
can resist the Divine power, astounding as the asser
tion may appear. And the human race has coUectively
the same wUl, and can resist the progress of revelation
within the coUective human mind, so as to make it
a gradual instead of an instantaneous work, and wUl
do so ff it act naturally. We are accustomed to the
idea of a limit to the Divine power in dealing with
one individual man ; — that God cannot force an indi
vidual to do good acts against his wUl, but that his
wiU mysteriously, yet stUl actuaUy or in fact, has a
power of resisting the Divine wiU; but we do not think
of society resisting God ; the raxie resisting Him. Yet
the same limitation which attaches to the Divine omni
potence dealing with oin^ man, appUes also to the same
attribute in dealing with mankind collectively: it
appUes to the advancement of the human race, moraUy
and intellectuaUy, and to Divine revelation as the
means of such advancement, just as much as it appUes
to one man, and to ordinary grace as an influencer.
This instantaneous enlightenment of mankind by reve
lation is a wUd notion ; it is a method of dealing with
man as a mass, which is utterly at variance with the
conditions which attach to the Divine omnipotence in
dealing with man as an individual. Is there in one
individual an inherent vis inertice, a stubbornness
which is capable of effectively withstanding the Divine
influence and desfre for his good ; and even ff it yield
finaUy, can first withstand it from time to time, thus
necessitating successive appUcations of the Divine

a Progressive Revelation. 247
moving power? The same principle applies to the
Divine action upon the race. This stubbornness and vis
inertias exists in the race ; nor is coUective humanity
by its own inherent constitution capable of being
raised to such a level of truth by an instantaneous
leap, as it can be made to attain by a long dis
pensation. The difficulty of a slow and progressive revelation,
as being inconsistent with the Divine omnipotence, is
thus only the fundamental difficulty of the Divine
power and man's free wUl. The Divine power acts in
a man's conversion, but it is quite consistent with that
power acting, that it should act gradually, and only be
able to act gradually. In the same way, there is
nothing unreasonable in the idea and notion that the
human race can be elevated and improved by a Divine
dispensation, and yet that that Divine dispensation may
be only able to improve and elevate it graduaUy. The
advance and progress may stUl be proved to have been
owing to that dispensation, because it may appear that
that result has only m/aci been ultimately attained in
conjunction with it.
It must be remembered that that which the Deity
communicates with, when He makes a revelation to
man, is his reason; and that a revelation does not
profess to change the reason of man, or to substitute
one kind of reason for another kind, when it com
municates fresh truth. It does not profess to alter the
fundamental mode of thought in man, or the pace
which is natural to the operations of reason.
Eevelation, in imparting what it does unpart to man.

248 The End the Test of
takes reason as it finds it, with aU its imperfections, with
its slow reception of whatever is new, and its hesitation
and frregularity. Eevelation does not, with the new
truth it gives, create a new instrument for receiving
that truth. That which is imparted is new indeed, but
that which receives what is imparted is the natural
understanding of man, which speciaUy requfres time.
That is to say, when a revelation is given to man, it is
man to whom it is given ; and he gets out of it what it
contains according to the natural constitution of his
mind. Moral action goes with intellectual. But God,
so to speak, cannot force moral action upon him ; ^nd
we find that the same obstruction which there is to the
Divine power in the case of an individual and his im
provement, exists also in the case of the race and its
improvement ; that the same obstruction which is in
the way of conversion immediately, exists in the way
of enlightenment by revelation immediately. Free
wUl is equally at the bottom of the slowness with
which both processes take place; that process by
which truths are seen and come to light, and that by
which moral changes take place.
But it may be objected, when we say that revela
tion cannot produce its effect instantaneously, because
God has created the reason of man with certain habits
and a certain progress and pace of its own, which
resist quicker enlightenment, that the very principle
of miracles is that God does produce effects which are
contrary to the institution of certain laws which He
has established in the world for ordinary use. That,
therefore, if there ever is such a thing as a mfracle,

a Progressive Revelation. 249
such a thing might be expected to take place in the
case of the action of a revelation ; and that revelation
must be able to produce, and ff it can should produce, its
effect upon mankind instantaneously. But it must be
remembered that it is a different thing, — a contradic
tion to a physical law, and a contradiction to the real
wUl of a real being. A physical law has nothing
wherewith to resist God, Who can as easily make or
do a thing in another way than that of law, as by that
law. A physical law is as nothing, regarding it as
preventing God from acting in any special way. If
this law acts it acts ; but if it does not act, some other
mode does for the occasion. But it is a different thing
when we come to the actual wUls of real beings. The
wiU of man is admitted, (with that reserve which, as
ignorant creatures, we must fall back upon in such
mysterious statements,) as that which has the power
of resisting the wiU of God. Free will is claimed as a
real attribute of man,- — power to do or not to do. The
wiU can resist God's wUl, and can stop the progress
of a work of God. Is this an intricate view of Divine
dealings, and does putting Divine power under such
checks and conditions as a progressive revelation implies,
seem radicaUy to interfere with the attribute ? This
is an objection which, ff it be of any force at all, does
not apply to a progressive revelation specially ; it
applies to the whole idea of a Deity, as compatible
with human _/ree will. Human free will is an internal
modification of the idea of God, which is only pre
vented from interfering injuriously with the idea, by
the intervention of our resort to ignorance. As

250 The End the Test of
ignorant creatures we are not entitled to say that
apparent limitations of the Divine power are real ones,
because they may be only such as the mathematical
consistency of truth itself imposes; that is only
verbal restrictions upon power, and not real ones. To
the inteUectual conception, however, the idea of God
is thus an idea with checks and conditions in it ; and
those who would simplify it absolutely, would establish
an idol and not a God. If we invent an idol, aU is
plain enough ; there are no enigmas in an idol ; there
are no reasons why individuals cannot be converted in
an instant, and why the human race cannot be enUght
ened in an instant by an abstract Omnipotence. But
if we suppose the Deity to be the Being we represent
Him in our sermons, our popular treatises, our exhorta
tions, who cannot do some things, and cannot change
man without his own concurrence, this is a Deity who
cannot give enUghtenment or implant a revelation in
man by an instantaneous act. Nor does the God of
the Jewish covenant do this. Simply, He does not do
what God, in our ordinary common-sense conception
of Him, does not do.
To sum up the argument, I explained in a former
Lecture that it was the peculiarity of the Jewish dis
pensation that it was both present and prospective in
its design ; that it worked for a future end, while it
provided also for the existing wants of man.
The system having thus a double aim, it is obvious
that of these two objects, that which is prior and takes
the first place in the intention of the system is the
end. In what did the dispensation actuaUy result ?

a Progressive Revelation. 251
In a perfect moral standard. Then we only argue
upon ordinary rules of evidence when we say that
that was the intention of the dispensation, and that
that was the intention even while its moraUty was
actually imperfect. The moraUty of the Author of
the dispensation is the true morality of the dispensa
tion; the final morals are the true morals, the tempo-
>rary are but scaffolding ; the true morals are con
tained in the end and in the whole.
Popular critics of the morality of the Old Testa
ment apply the coarsest possible arguments to this
subject. They think it enough to point to a rude
penal law, to a barbarous custom, to an extirpating
warfare, and it at once foUows that this is the morality
of the Bible ; but this is to judge the sculptor from
the broken fragment of stone. It was not the moraUty
of the Bible unless it was the morality of the Bible as
a whole, and the whole is tested by the end and not
by the beginning. Scripture was progressive : it
went from lower stage to higher, and as it rose from
one stage to another it blotted out the commands of
an inferior standard and substituted the commands of
a higher standard. This was the nature of the dis
pensation as being progressive ; it was the essential
operation of the Divine government as it acted in
that period of the world. The dispensation, then,
as a whole, did not command the extermination
of the Canaanites, but a subordinate step did ;
and this step passed from use and sight as a
higher was attained. The fact, though instract
ive as past history, became obsolete, and was left

252 The End the Test of
behind as a present lesson ; and the dispensation
in its own nature was represented by its end. The
very lower steps led to the end, and were for the
sake of leading to it. The critic adheres to a class
of commands which existed for the moment, as facts
of the day; but the turning point is the issue, and
the whole can only be interpreted by the event. The
morality of Scripture is the morality of the end of
Scripture ; it is the last standard reached, and what
everything else led up to.
Nothing, then, can be cruder and more rude than
to identify Scripture with the action of the day. In
the eyes of some, the action of the day is the seff-
evident morality of Scripture, and no argument is
thought necessary ; but whatever the facts may be,
it is a fundamental mistake to suppose that there
is any conclusion to be got from them, except
through the defile of an argument. In assuming a
God in the dispensation, we assume a presiding mind
and intention ; and of that intention not the imme
diate fact, but the upshot of the dispensation is the
test. We say the upshot is worth all the extraordi
nary and apparently lowering accommodation, the
stooping process, and humiUation of the Divine govern
ment. God allowed, during all those ages, mde men
to think of Him as one of themselves, acting with the
rudest and dimmest idea of justice. But He conde
scended at the moment, to prevail and conquer in
the end. In entering into and accepting thefr con
fused ideas. He grappled with them. Through what
a chaos of mistakes did final light arise, and the true

a Progressive Revelation. 253
idea of justice make its way in the world I And God
tolerated the mistakes, and allowed His commands to
go forth in that shape, but the condescension was
worth the result. It is the result alone which can
explain those accommodations ; but the result does
explain them, and bring them out as successful Divine
policy.

THE MANICH^ANS AND THE
JEWISH FATHERS.
QT. AUGUSTINE is perhaps the most marveUous
^ controversial phenomenon which the whole history
of the Church from first to last presents. One great
controversy is ¦ usuaUy enough for one man ; but he
conducted, or it may be said finished, three ; the
Manichsean, the Pelagian, and the Donatist. But it
is not so much the number of the controversies which
he conducted, as the vigour and proUfic power of his
pen upon each, and the extraordinary force with
which he stamped his own statements permanently
upon the Church, which is the remarkable fact. The
language in which he summed up the Pelagian con
troversy reigned in the Church and dictated her
formulae ; and after moulding the schools of the
Middle Ages, prescribed the Articles of our own
Church. He was superlatively fitted for fulfilUng this
function, as well by his defects as by his gifts and
merits. Armed with superabundant facUity of ex
pression, — so that he himseff observes that one who
had written so much must have a good deal to answer
for, — ^he was able to hammer any point of view which
he wanted, and which was desirable as a counter-

The Manichceans. 255
acting one to a pervading heresy, with endless repeti
tion upon the ear of the Church ; at the same time
varying the forms of speech sufficiently to please and
enliven. In argument he was not too deep ; to have
been so would have very much obstructed his access
to the mind of the mass, and prevented him from
getting hold of the ear of the Church at large.
Nothing could have been more fatal to his infiu
ence than that he should have got himself im
bedded in some profound question, the solution of
which must only have taken him into lower and still
more difficult depths. He undoubtedly dealt with
profound questions, but his mode of dealing with
them was not such as to entangle him in knots and
intricacies, arising from the disposition to do justice
to aU sides of truth. On some subjects of contro
versy, as on the Manichsean, his line was clearly laid
down for him in Scripture, in the assertion of one
God of infinite power and goodness, to which Mani-
chaeanism was a dfrect contradiction ; though here he
had perhaps in parts and branches of the controversy
rather neat answers, than fuU or final answers. In
the Pelagian controversy he had one side of truth, and
one fundamental and conspicuous assertion of Scrip
ture, to defend, of which the Pelagian doctrine was an
audacious deniafl ; but he did not aUow the unity and
simpUcity of his answers to be at all interfered with
by large a;nd inclusive views of truth. To the extreme
contradictory on the one side, he gave the extreme
contradictory on the other ; and he gave it, as he did
every answer he gave, with the most triumphant

256 The Manichceans and
copiousness of language; with all the structure and
finished mould of a consummate rhetorical style ;
with the most neat and admirable adaptation of the
form of answer to the form of the hostile proposition ;
and with a perpetual freshness, and flexibility of shape
and construction, in the composition of his argument.
Augustine is indeed, with aU this, monotonous, and
perhaps no writer in the whole of Church history tries
the patience of his reader more than he does. The
surface is elegantly varied, but the variety is thin and
superficial, as compared with a monotony which is
solid, bulky, and substantial. The reader feels that
the discussion, under Augustine's hand, is wanting in
the novelty and variety of trunk lines of thought.
We travel over the ground, aware that we are not
making sohd way upon the substantial point ; while
the outer coating of the subject shows variety
and versatUity. But this was in fact all the better
for his writing, looked at in its controversial scope.,
It was so much the more powerful an instrument
for impressing a certain class of thoughts upon
the mass of men ; so much the more effective from
its repetition and constancy. He was made, by
this very modification of a varied monotony, —
perpetually bringing in the same ideas under very
slight difference of dress, — only the more nearly per
fect a controversiaUst ; only the more effective an
instrument for fixing particular positions, and im
pressing a particular language upon the Church.
Augustine's was a different thinking from modern
phUosophical thought : he did not advance by regular

the Jewish Fathers. 257
steps, and unfold an argument from a foundation,
as a modern superior writer does ; he thought with
his pen in his hand, and the great mass of his
treatises were pamphlets ; many of them, latterly, hit
off in the intervals of public business, and to meet
particular occasions and attacks.
His first controversy was the Manichsean, to
which he was the more committed from having been
a convert to Manichseanism himself. And it may be
asked, What could have made Augustine ever turn
Manichsean ? When we come across these Oriental
reUgions, Gnosticism and Manichseanism, their phrase
ology, whether it is about aeons, or about nations of
Ught or nations of darkness, and mixtures of the two,
is so extravagant and empty, that it seems the in
vention of children rather than of men. In Mani
chseanism (it is Augustine's description), " On the side
of the bright and holy land was the deep and immense
land of darkness, wherein dwelt fiery bodies, pestilent
races. There were boundless darknesses emanating
from the same nature, countless with thefr progeny;
beyond which were muddy and turbid waters with
thefr inhabitants, and within which were horrible and
vehement winds with thefr princes and producers.
Then again a destructive fiery region with its leaders
and nations."^ The Manichseans spoke of the five
caves of the nation of darkness; they " assigned to the
people of darkness five elements, each of which pro
duced its own chief; and these elements they caUed
1 S. Aug. contra Fpist. Maniclicei, 15.
S

258 The Manichesans and
vapour, darkness, fire, water, wind." ^ Both light and
darkness were spoken of as Principles, Natures, Sub
stances, Gods;"^ In Manichseanism, then, the king
dom of darkness made an attack on the kingdom of
Ught ; and the Light or Divine Nation, being in some
trepidation for itseff, thought it best to make a
compact with its opponent; and a certain section
of the former, entering into combination with the
latter, formed the composition of this world. With
respect, then, to these and such like representations, it
must be observed that they are only the pictorial part
of the system giving a scenic effect to the theory.
Though even this had its influence in proselytising ;
and when Augustine says that this imagery put
into marked contrast before him the " most lucid sub
stance of God," and evU as having its own foul and
hideous bulk, whether gross which they caUed earth,
or thin and subtle like the body of the air," ^ we can
imagine the winning effect of a bright and dark con
trast on a boy. But all this must have been meant,
by the very construction of DuaUstic theories, only as
so much imagery, putting the theory into a portrait
shape, and adapting it to the minds of the mass.
What was represented by it, was, that there were two
original substances in nature, a good and an evU one.
And this has an argument of its own, which is by no
means obsolete at the present day. All DuaUstic
reUgions contain thefr main appeal to human reason
in the circumstance of their pretension to represent
^ S. Aug. contra Epist. Maniohoei, 18 ; and de Hceres. 46, p. 35, Ei
Migne. ' Gonira Faustvm, xxi. 1. " Gonfess. v. 20.

the Jewish Fathers. 259
facts. This is a mixed world, and it must have a
mixed Deity. That is their real basis. In what form
they do this, — whether under the form of two gods, a
good and an evU, or of one God who is a mixture of
both good and evU, or who is devoid of either, —
is a subordinate point.
Hume declared it his opinion that there was
a great deal in Manichseanism. That philosopher,
although he could, as he said, argue ingeniously for
ever against final causes, still avowed that, as a man
of common sense, he could not see his way to denying
that this world must have originated in a Designing
Mind. But what kind of Mind ? Yes, that was the
difficulty. "Look round this universe," he says.
"What an immense profusion of beings, animated
and organised, sensible and active ! You admfre this
prodigious variety and fecundity. But inspect a little
more narrowly these living existences, the only beings
worth regarding. How hostUe and destructive to
each other ! How insufficient aU of them for thefr
own happiness ! How contemptible or odious to the
spectator ! The whole presents nothing but the idea
of a blind Nature, impregnated by a great vivifying
principle, and pouring forth from her lap, without dis
cernment or parental care, her maimed and abortive
chUdren ! Here the Manichsean system occurs as a
proper hypothesis to solve the difficulty : and no doubt,
in some respects, it is very specious, and has more
probabihty than the common hypothesis, by giving a
plausible account of the strange mixture of good and
UI which appears in lffe. But ff we consider, on the

26o The Manichceans and
other hand, the perfect unfformity and agreement of
the parts of the universe, we shall not discover in it
any marks of the combat of a malevolent with a
benevolent being. There is, indeed, an opposition of
pains and pleasures in the feelings of sensible creatures :
but are not all the operations of Nature carried on by
an opposition of principles, of hot and cold, moist and
dry, light and heavy ? The trae conclusion is, that
the original Source of all things is entfrely indifferent
to aU these principles ; and has no more regard to
good above ill, than to heat above cold, or to drought
above moisture, or to Ught above heavy."
" There may ybur hypotheses be framed concerning
the first causes of the universe : that they are endowed
with perfect goodness ; that they have perfect malice ;
ihat they are opposite, and have both goodness and
malice ; that they have neither goodness nor maUce.
Mixt phenomena can never prove the two former un-
mixt principles; and the unfformity and steadiness
of general laws seem to oppose the thfrd. The
fourth, therefore, seems by far the most probable."^
Hume, then, regarded Dualism only as one form of
that theory of theism which was based upon the actual
condition of the universe. It was an inconvenient
form, because there was no appearance of a straggle
in the construction of the world. But so long as your
God was an induction from facts, which phUosophically
Hume thought He must be. He must be either two,
a good and an evU, or one Deity mixed of both ; or
a wholly negative and extra-moral Deity. And thus
1 Hume's Philosophical WorJcs, ed. 1826, vol. iL p. 526.

the Jewish Fathers. 261
in Mr. MiU's autobiography we see a testimony paid
to the merits of Manichseanism as a mode of theism
doing justice to facts. MUl says of his father James
Mill, that the grounds of his objection to estabUshed
theism were moral more than intellectual: that he
found it impossible to believe that a world so fuU of
evU was the work of an Author combining infinite
power with perfect goodness and righteousness ; and
that his intellect spurned the subtleties by which men
attempt to blind themselves to this open contradiction ;
that he would not have equally condemned the Sabsean
or Manichsean theory of a good and an evil principle
straggling against each other for the government of the
universe ; and that he had expressed surprise that no
one revived that theory in our own time.^
So far, however, Manichseanism was only the
ancient theistic Dualism, and stood upon the ground
of the Parsee religion, and the doctrine of Zoroaster
or the Magi. But Manichseanism had this notable
pecuUarity, that it was a proselytising and propa
gandising religion. In this respect it had parted
company with the parent stock. It was Magianism,
not staying at home and content with its ancestral
domains, but wandering about over the whole world
like a knight-errant in the cause of truth and in quest
of disciples. It was the ordinary character of these
Oriental religions to be stationary ; where they had
grown up, there they remained as traditionary systems,
and they manffested no inclination for adventure or con
quest. And so Magianism was naturally a stationary
^ Autobiography nf John Stuart Mill, p. 39.

262 The Manichceans and
religion : but this was a fiery offshoot of it, which
had so far diverged from the character of the parent
religion. Manichseanism was Zoroastrianism feeling
a want and void in its own local confinement, be
ginning to suspect that truth ought to be common to
all the world, and so adopting the aim and the scope
of a universal religion.
But this could not be managed without considerable
difficulty. The ancient Zoroastrianism had very small
resources for a universal religion. There was little to
satisfy the human heart in a twofold Deity, and in an
internecine war of good and evil, in which the theory
did not speak, at any rate with any trumpet voice, as
to the issue. But when the Manichsean had issued
forth from the precincts of his own national worship,
and looked around him on open ground, he saw
before him the youthful and vigorous religion of
Christianity, avowedly aiming at universal empire,
and considering that its lawful and natural prize. It
had afready even, partially accomplished its purpose,
had broken down the boundaries of nations, and shown
itseff of a universal type. This was a striking phe
nomenon to a religious propagandist, who aimed at
the same result, but with wholly inadequate means.
The idea struck him that he would use the Christian
religion for the purpose of giving universality to the
Magian. He had, as it were, a universality provided
for him and ready at hand in the catholic Church and
creed, if only it could be appended to his own religion ;
but unfortunately at present it belonged to a differ
ent stock and antecedents. How was the transfer to

the Jewish Fathers. 263
be effected ? Obviously by a bargaUi or compact of
some kind ; but what ? Magianism must of course
engraft its own main doctrines upon Christianity ; that
was essential, otherwise it would not be Magianism
which would attain universality in Christianity ; which
was the object. But, on the other hand, Magianism, i.c.
the Manichsean offshoot of it, would professedly receive
into itself certain portions of Christianity. There
would thus be an incorporation of Magianism into Chris
tianity, of Christianity into Magianism ; and the com
bination would be an eternal and universal religion.
Manichseanism, then, in order to fulfil its share
in the compact, incorporated in a certain shape,
though a whoUy spurious one, the Christian doctrines
of the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Atonement.
It acknowledged in words a Holy Ghost,^ but it
placed His habitation in the air. It acknowledged
again the Second Person in the Trinity, and gave
Him the name of Logos; but it assigned to Christ
the sun as His residence, and even identified Him
with the vivifying power of the sun. This was a
physical theory of our Lord, who thus became partly
the ancient Mithra of the Magian system, and partly
the source of the animating principle of the physical
world. This was the office oi power ^ which belonged
to the Redeemer. The patibilis Christus, the suff'er-
ing Christ, consisted in the same power being detached
and dehvered from the channels in which it had re
sided — i.e., from the receptacles of vegetable nature ;
which detachment and delivery took place by death.
* Contra Faustum, xx. 2. ^ Ib. xx. 2.

264 The Manichceans and
Our Lord was thus spoken of as undergoing injury,
degradation, and pollution, ," in the bands of earthly
materials, in the juices of herbs, and in the corrup
tion of aU flesh ; " ^ and it was said that " the Saviour
was crucifled in the whole world and in every soul ; "
and Christ, it was said, "was daily born, suffered, and
died — that He hung from every tree." ^ A more local
presence of our Lord upon earth even was accepted,
but no true incarnation. "The Ught," says Manes,^
" touched not the substance of the flesh, but was only
shaded with a Ukeness and form of flesh." It was
denied that Christ really took on Him human flesh,
that He was born, or died, or rose again, or was cfr-
cumcised, baptized, or tempted, or had any of the
affections of a man. But the delivery which was
assigned to Christ as a function was still the dehvery
from error and slavery, from enmity and from death.
Though these expressions too receive a Manichsean
sense from the interpretation of their uses elsewhere.
They seem to mean only what Christ was and did as
a teacher. " We cannot be reconciled," the Manichsean
said,* " save through a Master, who is Christ Jesus."
" We follow the true knowledge, and that knowledge
restores the mind to the memory of its former state
in the kingdom of light." ®
But there was another exchange to be made
before the compact of Manichseanism with Chris
tianity was completed. When the Manichsean turned
1 Gontra Faustimi, xx. 17. 2 JJ. xx. 2.
^ Epist. ad Zebenam ap. Fabric. Bibl. Gr. v. 284.
* Gontra Fortunat. 17. ' Ib. 20.

the Jewish Fathers. 265
his eye upon the spectacle of Christianity, he saw
there a mighty and expansive future, but, in his view,
a somewhat degraded and ignominious past. He could
not tolerate the Old Testament Saints. The Patriarchs,
the Judges, the Prophets, the Kings,— he regarded
them aU as simply involved in one charge of im
morality, barbarism, fraud, and bloodshed. Their ways
and mode of lffe were odious to him, and conflicted
in the most marked way with the Oriental standard
of subUmity and sanctity. He could not possibly
understand how a high Saint could have many chUdren,
stUl less how a Patriarch could have several wives,
and how a Judge, under the impulse of inspiration,
could slay a thousand men with the jawbone of an ass.
The freedom, the impulse, the impetus, not to say the
irregularities of the Jewish saints more than perplexed
him, they astounded, shocked, and disgusted him. He
could not conceive how such men could stand at the
root of that sacred stem which bore the Christian
branches. Moses, in spite of the moral scope of his
legislation, was intolerable to him; he inveighed
against his cruelty, his judicial slaughters, his exter
minations. Though an antagonist, upon his own
Magian basis, to idolatry, Faustus, taking the part of
the Canaanites against Moses, declared of him that —
" humanorum nuUi unquam divinorumque peper-
cerit."^ He asserted that when our Lord said that
aU before Him were thieves and robbers. He referred
to the Patriarchs and Prophets of the Old Testament.^
^ GmiVra Faustum, xv. 1. "He spared nothing either human or
divine." ' lb. xvi. 12.

266 The Manichceans and
The Law, with its bloody rites, cfrcumcision, and
sacrifices, was denounced as only a form of paganism..
Even the quiet and peaceful family lffe of the Jewish
Patriarch was low m his eyes; it was enveloped in
the chains of earth; it did not scale the heights of
holy absorption, or mount up to the empyrean of
mortifled rapture. It did not at aU embody, but
seemed coarsely to contradict, the subtle Eastern type,
which demanded as its first condition the separation
from matter and the rejection of sense. The fiery-
proud spirituaUty of the Oriental religions put to
shame the simplicity, humility, and practical temper
of the Jewish saintly mind. The Manichsean could
not imagine that such a Ufe could be a chastised lffe.
Though it is the experience of most people, when
any peculiarly showy specimens of goodness have
been before them in lffe, that some character less
striking in outward effect has been really the best,
this was not his conclusion. The Old Testament
saints and prophets were not shov?y enough for him.
What was to be done with such a spfritual ancestry ?
The large prospect of the Christian Church, its strong
and vigorous present, were objects of ambition for the
Manichsean to get hold of, but he could not accom
modate his stomach to its low progenitors. Could he
persuade it to give them up, and in the place of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the Patriarchs and the Pro
phets, to adopt as spfritual forefathers — the Magi !
For this was vfrtually the scope of the compact. It
assumed the/orm indeed of disbelieving all the accounts
of the Old Testament saints, and rejecting the whole of

the Jewish Fathers. 267
the Bible narrative on that head : — " Puniantur scrip
tores, damnentur eorum Ubri, purgetur propheticum
nomen indigna fama, gravitati atque censurse suse
Patiiarcharum reddatur auctoritas." ^ But ff the
actual recorded character of the Jewish saints was
thus blotted out, and another substituted for it
by an hypothesis; what must that substituted cha
racter be ? It must of course be the one which as a
Manichsean he considered was the proper character for
saints to possess ; or the sanctity of his own Magi.
This was in fact, then, to say : You really cannot keep
these Old Testament saints ; I can assure you they do
not do for you ; they reaUy are a discredit to you ; you
must change them ; it wUl be a great improvement ;
attach the Magi to Christianity ; they are real saints,
and wUl make you forefathers of whom you need not
be ashamed. Now it is certainly an advantage which belongs
to hypothetical spfritual ancestors, that their merits
can be exalted to the utmost point of perfection
without any fear of contradiction. This undescribed
and unrecorded Une of Jewish saints which was to oust
the known recorded Une, would have been supposed
to possess aU the highest quahfications of Eastern
saints, and all the ascetic and contemplative virtues.
And so to the Manichsean Faustus the exchange would
have seemed a most happy one. But to us at the present
day it is more than questionable whether the torpid,
1 Gontra Faustum, xxii. 3. " Let the writers be punished, let their
books be condemned, let the name of the prophets be purified from
the fame that degrades them, let the authority of the Patriarchs be
restored to the sober and severe life that is truly theirs.''

268 The Manichceans a'nd
ascetic contemplativeness of the Eastern saint would
have seemed a good exchange for the true and genuine
form of character which belongs to the Old Testament
saint, — its naturalness, its life, with aU its irregulari
ties ; and whether it would not have appeared like a
substitution of dead men for Uving ones.
It was indeed one of the principal weapons which
the Manichsean controversialist wielded against Chris
tianity — ^the character, of the Old Testament saints ;
i.e., the striking difference of moral standard in the
Old Testament and the New. He made the very
most of this, and threw in the face of Christians
the actions of the Patriarchs, with an insolence
which reminds one of the lowest ranges of modern
controversy. The tone in which Faustus censures
Abraham, Moses, the Judges, and David, is like that of
the National Reformer. And when we meet Augustine
afterwards as a champion and defender of the Jewish
saint against Manichaeanism, we can easUy under
stand that this difficulty would have pressed upon him
strongly when that system first gained him as a
convert ; and that the escape which the Manichsean
offered from the moral difficulties of the Old Testa
ment was among the principal attractions of his
side of the argument; that it would have great
influence upon youthful phUosophical minds. The
objections to Old Testament morals were upon the
surface, the answer was indfrect and roundabout.
Putting aside, then, the substantial part of the
Manichaean contioversy, that concerned with the dual-
istic basis of that religion, which Augustine refuted

the Jewish Fathers. 269
upon the principles of the Old Testament revelation of
one God of infinite power and goodness, let us attend
to this offshoot, but stUl very important offshoot, of
the subject, which had to do with the difficulty of Old
Testament morality.
The answers of Augustine, then, to the Manichsean
invectives against the Patriarchs and saints of the Old
Testament, were characterised by that ingenuity which
so marked his controversial treatment of subjects.
"Those who raise these objections," he says, "against the
actions ofthe Patriarchs, are like schoolboys, who would
reprove thefr masters for some apparent grammatical
mistake, which is no real mistake : for example, they
know the mle that a noun singular cannot be joined
with a verb plural ; and so when their teacher, who
is most learned in the Latin tongue, repeats the line —
* pars in frusta secant ; ' some boys would correct
him, and say, ' No, not secawi ; it must be secaf .' And
when he says 'i2efligione patium,' they would say,
' No : religione, not refligione.' There is an analogy
between these absurd corrections and the charges of
these objectors. The virtues of great minds are some
times like the faults of little minds. There is as
much distance between the typical acts of the Prophets
and the sensual sins of the wicked, as there is between
the solecisms or barbarisms of tyros and the figures
and metaplasms of grammarians."^
So again . . . "They" — Manichsean objectors to Old
Testament morals — " are like to men who decry the
UtUity of things, when they do not know what the
^ Gantira Faustum,, xxii 25.

270 The Manichceans and
things themselves are. As ff a deaf man should see
the lips moving of men talking, and should blame the
superfluity and deformity of the motions ; or as ff a
bhnd man put into a house, which he had heard much
praised, should feel round with his hand to test the
smoothness of the waUs, and coming to windows,
should find fault with their inconvenience, and suppose
them to be ruinous holes." ^
The typical aspect of Old Testament actions is
strongly pressed by Augustine. But now we come to
a sohd and real defence, viz., that the Divine orders
in the Old Testament to do actions which we think
wrong now, are the necessary accommodation of the
Divine policy, and with it of the Divine commands, to
the cfrcumstances and moral standard of the day. To
the contrast drawn beween Patriarchs and Apostles
he replies — " Nee (valetis) discernere consuetudinem
temporis UUus, quo promissio velabatur, a consue
tudine temporis istius, quo promissio revelatur."'
Why does FaUstus object to the spoUing of the
Egyptians ? As if Moses would not have sinned had
he not done it ! " Deus enim jusserat qui utique novit
. . . secundum cor hominis, quid unusquisque, vel
per quem pei-peti debeat. . . . Digni ergo erant et isti
quibus talia juberentur, et UU qui taUa paterentur." *
' Gontra Faustum, xxii. 7.
2 lb. xxii. 23. "You are not able to discern between the custom
of that tirae, when the promise was being veiled, and the custom of
the present time in which the promise is revealed."
^ Ib. xxii. 71. "For God had ordered it, who really knows . . .
according to the state of man's heart what each ought to suffer, and nt
whose hands. . . . Therefore they were worthy for their part to receive
such commands, and the others to suffer such treatment."

the Jewish Fathers. 271
. . . And he adheres to the answer in spite of the
objection raised that a true or good God could not
have given such commands. ..." Imo vero talia recte
non jubet, nisi Deus Verus et Bonus, qui et solus novit
quid cuique jubendum sit . . . solus Deus Verus et
Bonus novit quid, quando, quibus, per quos fieri ali
quid veljubeat vel permittat."^
The extermination of the Canaanites was thus an
instance of the execution, by means of human instru
ments (who were qualified by the carnal stage of mind
through which they were then passing to be the recipi
ents of such commands), of a great Divine principle
that the kingdoms of idolaters were the property of
the true God: — a principle which it was speciaUy
necessary to promulgate at that time : " Sed eam
rerum dispensationem ac distributionem, temporum
ordo poscebat, ut prius appareret etiam ipsa bona
terrena . . . propter quse maxime civitas impiorum
diffusa per mundum suppUcare idolis et dsemonibus
solet, non nisi ad unius Dei veri potestatem atque arbi
trium pertinere."^ ... Do not they understand, he says,
this principle of Divine accommodation ? — " Jamne in-
teUigunt quemadmodum nulla inconstantia prsecipien-
^ Contra Faustum, xxii. 72. "Nay rather, none gives such com
mands rightly excepi the true and good God, who at once alone knows
what commands each should receive . . . and who alone knows the
nature, the time, the objects, the instruments of any command or
permission that He gives."
2 n. 76. " But the order of time demanded this dispensation and
distribution of things, that it should first appear that even earthly
goods, for which the community of impious men diffused throughout
the world is wont to make greatest supplication to idols and demons,
are reaUy only in the disposition and free will of the one true God."

272 The Manichceans and
tis, sed ratione dispensantis, pro temporum diversitate,
' praecepta vel consiUa, vel permissa, mutentur?"^
We are in this part of the Manichsean controversy
introduced early into a difficult question, which has
been a special subject of modern, and most particularly
of very recent thought — I ipean the difficulty of Old
Testament morality — how God could give commands
to persons to do the actions, which He did command
in those ages. This has been a fertUe subject of dis
cussion in the present day, and it can hardly be said
that any answer has even yet been arrived at in
which there is general concurrence. Augustine
appears to me to have struck out in a rough way
what is the main answer to the difficulty, viz. that
God gives commands in accommodation to the state
of mind and moral standard of the recipients of them.
..." Deus Verus et Bonus solus novit quid cuique
jubendum sit ... . novit secundum cor homims,
quid unusquisque, vel per quem perpeti debeat. . . .
Digni ergo erant et isti quibus talia juberentur, et iUi
qui taUa paterentur." ^ Here is involved the principle
that God could, in a former age and to people of a
lower .moral standard, give commands to do actions,
which we should think it wrong to do now. " Deus
jubet secundum cor hominis . . . digni erant quibus talia
juberentur." There was a certain inward want, an
unenlightenment, a rudeness of moral conception, in
1 Contra Faustum, xxii. 77. " Do they understand at last how pre
cepts, or counsels, or permissions are changed, with no ihconstancy in
Him who gives them, but by the wisdom of Him who dispenses them
according to the difference of the times V,
2 Ib. 71, 72. See p. 270, note .3,

the Jewish Fathers. 273
those to whom such commands were given; other
wise they would not have been given. God would
not have given a command to slaughter a whole.
nation to an enlightened people : we cannot suppose
Him, e.g., giving such a command to us at the present
day. " But when people were ' digni quibus talia jube
rentur,' then God commanded 'secundum cor hominis.'"
When thefr moral standard was such as admitted of
such a command being received by them as a Divine
command, then the command was given, when in the
Divine course of policy it was expedient that it should
be given. There is something natural in this answer ; and if
any one of ordinary understanding were asked in an
ordinary way his idea of the explanation of such
commands, he would most likely state it in this way.
But when it has come to formal judgment in theo
logical w;riting, something has prevented Divines from
being wiUing to admit that God can command an
action whieh, according to a perfect moral standard,
is wrong. In thefr account of the Divine accommoda
tion, they go as far as permission ; but they stop with
permission, and do not recognise the idea of God
actually commanding an action below our moral
standard, though on a level with the inferior moral
standard of an 'early age. This element accordingly
does not enter into Butler's explanation of these com
mands;^ his explanation, e.g., ofthe Divine command
to destroy the Canaanites does not bring in, or avaU
itself at aU of, the special defence or excuse of an in-
^ See ante, p. 31.
T

2 74 The Manichceans and
ferior moral standard in the Jewish people of that age.
His explanation rests entirely upon the Divine right
to destroy lffe, and to communicate the intention to
execute that right to the persons through whose
instrumentality it was to be carried out. But this
defence would apply as much to such a command
given in the present day, as it would to a Uke com
mand given in the age of Moses and Joshua. It does
not . rest on or avail itself of any distinction of
moral standard existing between the two ages. And
though Butler would doubtless acknowledge such a
distinction as Zjfact, his explanation does without it.
Augustine's explanation distinctly avails itseff of
this element of defence, and expressly acknowledges
the moral right of the Deity not only to permit, but
to command, actions of imperfect moraUty, when the
moral standard of the age does not rise above that
level. But whUe Augustine acknowledges the imperfect
moral standard of the Patriarchal and Prophetic age,
this does not in the least affect his estimate of the
high sanctity and greatness of Patriarchs and Prophets
themselves. Underneath the differences of special
moral rules and ideas, in which they were at a dis
advantage, and which were those of the age in which
they lived, he sees a fundamental unity of general
sanctity and greatness, and loftiness of character,
which unites them with the Apostles and the highest
saints of the New Testament. It is a difficult question
in moral phUosophy how far any man is lowered in
dividuaUy in moral character by the faults and

the Jewish Fathers. 275
defective mles of his age. One sees a moral greatness
in an individual which Ues underneath the growth
and progress of moral ideas in the race; which
greatness is the same in a Patriarch that it is in an
Apostle. We rest satisfied that there is this fun
damental unity, in the moral character of Patriarch
and Apostle, notwithstanding the variety of particular
rules under which they lived, — which unity puts them
on the same basis as reUgious men. With St. Augus
tine it is always — " Tantus Patriarcha, Pater Abraham,
Sanctus vfr Jacob, sancti Patiiarchse — quorum se
Deum appeUari voluit Deus." ^
* Contra Faustum, xxii. 46, 47, 69.

APPENDIX.
Lecture I, Note 1, p. 1.
An inscription on the bricks of Mugheir seems to identify the
god whom Terah worshipped, with the Moongod whose worship
was established in the ancient Chaldsean capital (see Eawlinson's
Herodotus, vol. i. p. 365). The expression, " served other gods "
evidently alludes to some decided form of idolatry. Some sort of
superstitious use of images appears to have adhered to the family
stock which Abraham left behind him in Haran at his second and
solitary migration into Canaan, even after the first migration of
the whole house from the other side the flood — ^from Ur of the
Chaldees. When Eachel, a daughter of the branch at Haran,
fled with Jacob from her father Laban, she stole " his gods," and
" put the images in the camel's furniture." i And whatever the
superstition was, it seems to have gone on surreptitiously for
some time even among Jacob's own household ; for on his jour
ney to Bethel, he " said unto his household and to all that were
with him. Put away the strange gods that are among you, and be
clean, and change your garments." " But this corrupt use of
images could hardly have been any formal system of idolatry ;
for the worship of the one God, as the open and established
worship of Jacob's household, would have precluded this ; nor,
had the kindred left behiad in Haran been formal idolaters,
would there have been any reason for the family of Abraham so
carefully maintaining the connection with them, and its heirs
taking their wives exclusively from them, religiously avoiding
the daughters of the people of the land. There would have been
no religious ground for keeping up this marked distinction be
tween the kindred at Haran and the Canaanites, had both wor
shipped false gods. This use of images is generally supposed to
1 Gen. xxxi. SO, 31 " Gen. xxx7. 2.

2/8 Appendix.
have been connected with some practice of divination or some
minor form of superstition, which was consistent with the regular
worship of one God. But the forefathers of Abraham " served
other gods," they were idolaters who paid to false gods that
worship which was due to the one true God. The book of
Judith follows the statement of Scripture. "This people (the
Jews) are descended of the Chaldseans : and they sojourned
heretofore in Mesopotamia, because they would not follow the
gods of their fathers, which were in the land of Chaldsea. For
they left the way of their ancestors, and worshipped the God of
heaven, the God whom they knew : so they cast them out from
the face of their gods, and they fled into Mesopotamia, and so
journed there many days. Then their God commanded them to
depart from the place where they sojourned, and to go into the
land of Chanaan." '
".Frequens et obvia est de ea re apud veteres historia ; sed
vereor ut suam satis liberent fidem, qui tam constanter de rebus
tam priscis sententiam proferunt. Tradunt sane Ebrsei statu-
arium fuisse Tharam, atque eandem cum eo aliquandiu exercuisse
artem Abrahamum. Et legitur Sacris Literis Tharam, et patres
ei contemporaneos, alienos Deos coluisse, quod in Josuse cap.
xxiv. com. 2 reperitur. Quod ansam forte prajbuit, ut idolatrise
initia ei deberi posteri censerent. Abrahamum item in ardentem
fomacem a Mmrodo conjectum, cum idolorum cultum detrectaret,
scribunt. Id prseter vulgo tritos scriptores habet Chaldseus
paraphrastes in Ecclesiastem cap. iv. com. 13 sed vix est ut
parentaUa seu feriarum denicalium sacra tam celeri in divinos
honores transitu, quam brevia sevi inter Sheruchum et Tharam
intervalla proposcerint, demutarentur. At vero Chaldaica ilia
paraphrasi, Uzielidi tributa, etiam locus ille Mosis, qui quartum
Genesis caput claudit de idolis, capitur perinde ac si diu etiam
ante diluvium coli ccepissent, circa annum nempe a mundi con-
ditu ducentisimum quadragesimum." '^
" Imagines illas quas furata est Eahel, Ebrsei vocant Teraphim,
Gen. cap. xxxi. comm. 19. Pro Diis esse habitas, testis est ipse
Laban, Quare, inquit ilIe,/MJ-ate es Deos meos ? Jacobum adlocutus.
Fictas eas ab astrologis, ut futura prsedicerent, sentit E. D.
Kimchi, et humana forma factas, ita ut caelestis influentise essent
' Chap. V. 6-9. " Selden, vol. ii. p. 238.

Appendix. 2 79
capaces, adnotat Abraham Aben Ezra theologus et astrologus
Judseorum maximus ; atque ad eam mentem interpretatur Tera
phim quae pro liberando Davide, in lecto posuit Michal uxor ejus,
de qua historia est 1 Sam. cap. 19. Inter causas etiam, cur
Eahel eas sustulerit, hanc unam recensent, ne scilicet Labani
Ularum inspectione innotesceret, per quod iter ilia abierat. Ideo
D. Augustinus Quaest. xciv. in Genesim. Qaod Laban, inquit,
dicit, Quare furatm es Deos meos ? hinc est illud fortasse quod et
augurari se dixerat. Imo et Aben Ezra augurium illud ad Tera
phim Labanis refert. Utrum autem ut Dii colerentur Teraphim,
utcunque Dii dicti, an vero divinationis tantum instrumenta
haberentur; vetus est inter magistros controversia." ^

Lecture III., Note 2, p. 74.
Warburton's great theory of the sacrifice of Isaac is based
upon the Scriptural account of that sacrifice, as undertaken with
the fuU expectation of the restoration of the victim to life ; but
he raises upon this basis a bold superstructure of his own, for
which it is not easy to find equal Scripture warrant, — the theory,
viz., that the sacrifice was a scenical representation, a representa
tion by action of the Atonement and Eesurrection of Christ, and
a revelation of the Gospel scheme to Abraham. The whole sub
ject of teaching by action, which prevailed in antiquity, and is
adopted in Scripture, is discussed and elucidated by Warburton.
To Jeremiah it is said, — " Make thee bonds and yokes, and put
them upon thy neck ; " * to Hosea, — " Go, take thee a wife of
whoredoms ; " ^ to Ezekiel, — " Prepare thee stuff for removing," *
etc. This was information by action instead of words. The
Almighty, by the first of these actions, indicating the conquest of
Nebuchadnezzar over Edom, Moab, etc. ; by the second, declaring
His abhorrence of the idolatries of the house of Israel ; by the
third, foretelling the approaching captivity of Zedekiah. And
thus Abijah rent his garment into twelve pieces, of which he gave
Jeroboam ten, to signify the secession of the ten tribes." The
1 Selden, voL ii. p. 279.
=> Jer. xxvii. 2. ' Hos. 1. 2. * Ezek. xii. 3.
« 1 Kings xi. 29, 30.

28o Appendix.
sacrifice of Abrahasn then was, according to Warburton, an
example of the same manner of teaching. The offering up of
Isaac, in which the real death of that victim was contemplated,
combined with the event of his son's restoration, revealed to the
Patriarch the Atonement and the Resurrection. Substantial action
was at the same time scenic representation. The information, he
supposes, had been solicited by Abraham ; and " the father of the
faithful must, from the nature of the thing, become very desirous of
knowing the manner how this blessing \In thee shall all the fami
lies of the earth be blessec^ was to be brought about. A Mystery,
if we will believe the Author of our Faith, that engaged the
attention of other holy men, less concerned than Abraham, and
consequently less stimulated and excited by their curiosity :
' And he turned unto his disciples, and said . . . For I tell
you, that many prophets and kings [and much more Abraham,
must] have desired to see those things which ye see,"" etc.
(Luke X. 23, 24). \
And the text, — " Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my
day," is adduced as proof that the information thus solicited by
Abraham beforehand bad been promised to bim, — ^the argument
being that the Greek word for rejoiced — H'/aKKioigoi.ro — signifies
" the tumultuous pleasure which the expectation of an actually
approaching blessing occasions." So convinced, indeed, is War
burton that Abraham received information by action of the great
events of the Gospel, that he accounts for the knowledge not
having been divulged, but having been concealed by the Patri
arch. But such a theory as this encounters great and insuperable
objections. Warburton explains, indeed, the total silence ofthe Old
Testament about this communication to Abraham, by saying that
it would have been contrary to the Divine scheme to have recorded
a revelation which would have indisposed the Jewish nation to
the preparatory discipline of the Law. And he answers the
obiection, that the command to sacrifice Isaac is plainly described
in Scripture not as the vouchsafement of a singular privilege, but
as a trial and temptation, by saying that the privilege was granted
upon the condition of and by means of a trial ; that Abraham
having requested to know the mode in which the blessing would
^ Diirine Legation. Book vi. § 5.

Appendix. 281
be accomplished, the answer was. Offer up Isaac, and it shall be
revealed to you. But the fact still remains, that Scripture is
altogether silent about this communication to Abraham, and that
therefore the supposition is wholly gratuitous and without foun
dation. The whole proof, indeed, of this supposed revelation to
Abraham rests upon that single text in the New Testament, —
" Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day ; and he saw it and
was glad;" but it is an extravagant strain upon this text to extort
this meamng out of it. " To see my day " is an indefinite
expression, which does not necessarily mean more than that
Abraham looked forward to the time when the Divine promise
would be fulfilled, and that sublime gift in which all the nations
of the earth were interested would be actually bestowed.
One consequence of Warburton's adoption of a peculiar theory
of the sacrifice of Abraham was a bad one — viz., that he defended
that sacrifice by the shield of his own theory, and not by the
simple statement of Scripture. To confute the notion that it was
a propitiatory human sacrifice, in imitation of Canaanitish worship,
the statement of Scripture was enough, — ^viz., that he who had
received the promise " That in Isaac shall thy seed be called,"
offered him up, " accounting that God was able to raise him up,
even from the dead." It was of the very nature of propitiatory
sacrifices that they contemplated the loss of the victim, but
Abraham did not contemplate the loss of Isaac. But Warburton
prefers resting the defence of Abraham's sacrifice against the
charge of being a propitiatory human sacrifice, upon the ground
that the sacrificial action in , it was only scenical representation
to reveal to Abraham the sacrifice of Christ. " This action being
mere scenery, had no moral import ; that is, it conveyed or implied
none of those intentions in Him who commanded it, and in him
who obeyed the command, which go along with actions that have
a moral import. Consequently, the injunction and obedience,
in an action which hath no such import, can no way affect the
moral character of the persons concerned : and consequently, this
command could occasion no mistakes concerning the Divine Attri
butes, ' with regard to God's delighting in human sacrifices." '
The defence is good, were the fact of the scenical representation
certain ; the latter, however, is no more than a theory, and is
' Dvvme Legaiion, vi. 5.

282 Appendix.
therefore a weak substitute for a Scripture statement. But
though Warburton erects a superstructure of uncertain theory on
this subject, the groundwork of his view is true and Scriptural —
viz. that Abraham offered up Isaac, not with the idea of losing
him, but with tbe fuU expectation of the recovery of the heir of
the promise.

Lecture V., Note 3, p. 121.
This is from a passage on tbe subject of punishment on the didactic
principle. We say that punishment for the fathers' sins is pun
ishment on that principle, and we call it vicarious punishment, —
regarding it as being on that principle and not on the judicial
principle. I bear that certain persons are selected by their
relationship to others to be instances of the consequences of sin.
Now this is very clear of those who are thus didactically punished
on account of their fathers' .sins. But Tucker points out, and
Tvith great truth, that it is not only true of those persons who are
punished on account of their fathers' sins, who make this a
marked and definite class; but that it is true of numbers of
men everywhere who are singled out for this use and purpose of
didactic punishment. Everywhere we see persons who are
singled out for providential inflictions, for the purpose of im
pressing others, reminding them of the consequences of connection
with sin, — whether it is the sin of a father or of a gover
nor, of a political or a military leader, does not signify. These
men are singled out for didactic punishment. They are not
worse than other men in themselves ; and therefore so far their
punishment upon the didactic principle is a vicarious one — it is
in fact suffered for the benefit and instruction of others, and for
tbe good of society. As Tucker says : — " It is not so much actual
suffering, as the terror of it, that operates upon free will ; " but
there must be some actual suffering to produce this terror. And
some must submit to this suffering by visitation of Providence ;
constituting an indefinite and constantly seen class. We have,
in fact, vicarious punishment of a didactic kind illustrated and
exemplified everyvrhere, not only in tbose who suffer for their
fathers' sins, but in persons who are visited by Providence gener
ally. The punishment for fathers' sins is brought under a more

Appendix. 283
general head, and is only one specimen of a large and compre
hensive system.
Now this being the case, Tucker goes off into another point
as to how justice is to be satisfied with this kind of didactic
vicarious punishment, some people being visited by Providence
for the instruction of others, when they are not worse in them
selves than others. And the general fad that it is so may be
allowed, while it may be difficult to explain the rationale of its
justice. And Mr. Tucker may have stated the fact rightly, and
may have rather missed a rationale. When we come across the
fact, indeed, a man says, I object to this fact : I object to being
made an example of didactic punishment for the instruction of
others. Say, I am one of the host of Pharaoh that was over
thrown in the Eed Sea for an example. How is this treatment
justified % Tucker then seems to admit that he has a grievance,
but thinks he sees a way out of it. He teUs the man — " In this
light of punishment it appears that the party undergoing it does
a signal service to his fellow creatures, by exhibiting to them an
example of utmost importance ; and necessary to preserve them
in happiness : for which service I see nothing in our ideas of a
gracious Govemor that should hinder His making him amends." ^
He then supposes some arrangements made in a future life to
meet the case. But this is loose and rough speculation. Yet
the fact of vicarious didactic punishmenf, it will be allowed, may
be separated from the particular form of it exhibited as a visit
ation for fathers' sins, and may be considered as a general law
taking place here. Indeed, when we look abroad in the world,
how much we see of great masses of providential visitation,
which look like didactic punishment of some kind or other, —
punishment meant to arrest our attention, though not judicial
with respect to individuals ! A great battle arrests our attention,
and we think it must be meant to be reflected on. The pride
and ambition of nations produces terrible punishment. Num
bers of individuals are not implicated in this public pride and
ambition, — stUl we cannot help seeing that this /afe is congenial
to this public vice and stain, of kings and statesmen. The whole
is a lesson, and has a moral effect.
' Tucker's Idght of Nature, vol. iv. p. 396.

284 . Appendix.
Lecture VL, Note 4, p. 143.
Eahab's act was the saving of two believers in the true God,
whereas Jael's was the destruction of an enemy of God; but
deception was common to both acts.* The whole statement
in answer to the Mng of Jericho's demand for the two spies was
false, the two men being at the very time on the roof of the
house hid with the stalks of flax. St. James, however," says
that Eahab " was justified by works," and that this very conceal
ment of the messengers was the work which justified her.
Scott's comment is — "Various opinions have been formed con
ceming Eahab's conduct on this trying occasion. Some object
that her treachery to her king and country cannot be vindicated ;
but it may be answered, that as she firmly believed the God
of heaven had devoted the Canaanites to be utterly destroyed by
the Israelites, she must either side with Israel and Israel's God
against her country, or perish with it in a hopeless contest against
the Almighty : so that, in her circumstances, she could not have
acted otherwise, if influenced by a true and living faith. ... In
respect of the falsehoods that she uttered ... if it were her indis
pensable duty if possible to protect the spies, and there were no
other conceivable way of obeying this, it seems not necessary to
condemn her conduct altogether. Stratagems of war, and similar
impositions upon determined enemies and persecutors, are not
absolutely condemned in Scripture, though inconsistent with
exact veracity." ' Bacon, in his tract " On Church Controversies"
speaking of certain enthusiastic preachers of his day, says — " In
this kind of zeal, they have pronounced generally, and without
difference, all untruths unlawful; notwithstanding, that the
midwives are directly reported to have been blessed for their
excuse, and Eahab is said by faith to have concealed the spies." '
Lecture VIL, Note 5, p. 172.
However justly Dante offends modern commentators, it is clear
that he did not outrage the conscience of his own age, character-
1 Josk ii. 4, 5. " James ii. 25. ^ Scott's Bible. Joshua ii 4.
* Bacon's Works, Ed. 1819, vol. ii. p. 520. Exod. i 9 ; 2 Sam. xvi. 18, 19 ;
2 Kings vi. 19.

Appendix. 285
ised as it was by bitter enmities, when he treats an inmate of
the Inferno as a proper subject for deception ; as having no right
to truth. In the circle of traitors, who are plunged up to the
head in a frozen lake, — where tears on the upturned face freeze
before they fall, thus forming a crystal vizor of ice, — he is accosted
by Frate Alberigo, who had murdered his, guests at a banquet.
Alberigo, mistaking him and Virgil for guilty spirits on the
way to their doom in the lowest circle, thus piteously accosts
them: — {Inferno, Canto xxxiii. 110). " 0 anime, crudeli
Tanto, che data v' h V ultima posta,
Levatemi dal viso i duii veil.
Si ch'io sfoghi il dolor che' 1 enor m'impregna
Un poco, pria che il pianto si raggieli. "
[" 0 souls so cruel that for you is sealed
The doom of the lowest gulf ! " so crying prayed me
One of the sad ones of the crust congealed ;
" Lift from my sight the hardened veil, and aid me,
To vent the sorrow through my heart extending,
A little ere the frost again invade me."]
Dante answers readily : —
" Perch' io a lui : Se vuoi ch'io ti sowegna,
Dimmi oU se' : e s' io non ti disbrigo,
Al fondo della ghiaocia ir mi convegna."
[Then I, " If thou would'st have me succour lending,
Say who thou wast ; and if thou art deceived, ^
Down to the lowest ice he my descending."]
He knew himself bound to the icy bottom under the care of his
guide, and in fact plays upon the traitor's misapprehension, who
accepts the conditions ; and declaring himself, — " I am the Friar
Alberigo," — tells his tale, and calls for the fulfilment of the
promise, — "Ma distendi oramai in qua la mano ;
Aprimi gU occhi : ed io non glieli apersi,
E cortesia fu lui esser villano."
[" But reach me hither now thy hand, unsealing
Mine eyes, I pray thee." But I left them closed ;
'Twas courtesy to him to he unfeeling.]

286 Appendix.

Lecture VII., Note 6, p. 175.
From this deceit of esprit de corps to benefit a clan, or tribe,
or party, or cause, we go to deceit for another object, viz. in
execution of justice. A man has exposed himseK to death for
the crime of bloodshed, and another man has it imposed upon
him, as a sacred function, to secure justice and kill him. This is
the law of Goel ; it may happen that the law can only be carried
out by stratagem and deceit ; and when these are necessary the
avenger of blood must use them. The Arabian character, then, is
described as generous and courageous, noble and frank in aU the
ordinary relations, but the tactics which the law of Goel imposes
on it try its fidelity to these features, and engraft upon the main
stock of the character some special and occasional modes of
action which are very opposite ; we find conspicuous untruthful
ness, treachery, and double-dealing, but it is stUl an insertion in
the general portrait of a noble-minded and magnanimous man.
In the very fulfilment of tbe law of Goel be undertakes danger
for tbe sake of duty, and sacrifices himself for a sacred object.
It is only when killing has been imposed as a duty, that the
discbarge from the obligation of truth has been considered to go
with it : — ^it ought to be said the prohibition to speak the truth,
the obligation to deceive. In proportion to the sanctity which
attached to tbe office of avenger of blood, and to tbe obliga
tion which lay upon bim to pursue the man guilty of homicide to
death, was also tbe strength of the conviction in the avenger's
mind, that be bad the right, or rather the duty to put aside all
the ordinary rules of sincerity and truth-speaking in the means he
adopted for accomplishing his end. Extreme deceit was allowed,
or rather imposed on him, when it was necessary; because it
was supposed that the duty of taking away life superseded the
right to truth-speaking. Tbe use of such tactics in an excep
tional case, then, implied no general tendency to dissimulation and
treachery in the man ; they were a special instrument for a special
end, and were totally different from meanness in the character.
The whole moral sentiment of the East has utterly cashiered,
within tbe direct sphere of the duty of slaying, the duty of
veracity. The slayer, while he is under the direct obligation to
kill a man, is under no obligation to truth ; but considers that as

Appendix. 287
the man is the fitting object of assassination, he is the fitting
victim of deceit and dissimulation. Michaelis, in his Arabic
Chrestomathy, which he quotes in his Commentary on the Laws
of the Hebrews, relates stories of the Arabs which show how
completely, in the execution of the sacred task of avenger of
blood, tbe Arab discards the whole ordinary duty of veracity,
and adopts the most intricate and elaborate arts of deceit and
duplicity to get bold of the manslayer whose life bas become a
solemn forfeit to him which he is bound to secure. The most
honourable Arab is under an obligation in this instance to use
every piece of dissimulation which can promote his end, and
bring the guilty man within his grasp.
" Hatim, the father, and Adi, the grandfather, of Kais bad
both been murdered ; but as that happened before Kais was
capable of reflection, bis mother kept it a secret from him, that
he might not at any future period meditate revenge, and thereby
expose bis own life to danger. In order to guard against his
having any suspicions, or making any inquiries as to their
deaths, she collected a parcel of stones on two hillocks in the
neighbourhood, that they might have tbe appearance of burial-
places, and told her son, that the one was the grave of bis
father, tbe other of his grandfather. Kais bad of course no other
idea than that his progenitors had died natural deaths, and were
there buried .... Kais had a quarrel witb another young Arab,
and received from bim this bitter taunt, " You would do better
to show your courage on the murderer of your father and grand
father." These words spoke much and deeply to his heart ; be
became melancholy; and threatened his mother with killing
either her or himself, if she did not teU bim the whole trath
relative to tbe deaths of bis father and grandfather. He thus
extorted the secret from ber ; and immediately set out on a
peregrination, to which I cannot apply a more proper phrase,
than our common one, of going in quest of adventures. He
went to a distant part of the country, in quest of a man named
Ohidascb, a friend of his father's, and whom he knew to bave
been indebted to bis father on the score of gratitude — for that
too enters into an Arab's idea of honour, barbarous as it other
wise is. When be found him out, he at first entered his bouse
merely as a stranger, according to the Arabian laws of hospi-

288 Appendix.
tality. The wife of Chidasch immediately observed something
in his face, which led her to ask whether he was not going to
avenge blood. Chidasch himself recognised in bim a likeness to
his friend, and after a short conversation, Kais told him where
fore be was come. Chidasch was somewhat perplexed ; for one
of tbe murderers was his own uncle: but he told Kais, that
although he would fain put the murderer into his hands, he
could not do it openly, but that be had only to mark his pro
cedure next night, when be would set himself down by the
murderer, and give him a blow familiarly, and in jest, upon
which signal be, Kais, might kill him himself, and trust to him
for protection against all retaliation from the family. This was
agreed upon ; Chidasch betrayed bis uncle by the preconcerted
signal; Kais killed him; and when the family threatened
vengeance, Chidasch apologised for him, and said he had done
nothing more than put bis father's murderer to death. They
then set off both together for the province of Heger, or Baharein,
on the Persian Gulf, where the murderer of his grandfather
dwelt. Chidasch hid himself behind a sandhill, and Kais went
up to the murderer, and after complaining to bim that a robber
had attacked him among the sandhills, and taken his property
from him, requested that he would help him to recover it.
According to the prevailing maxims of honour and valour among
the Arabs, be could not refuse the stranger's request, and
immediately commanded some of his people to attend him.
This, however, did not suit Kais's view, whose countenance
instantly betrayed the appearance of a smile j and on tbe other
asking him why he laughed, replied, " With us no brave man
would take so many people to his aid, but would rather come
alone." The man was ashamed, and ordered his people back,
which was what Kais wanted. And when they got a sight of
the pretended robber among the sandhills, and tbe man was
about to attack him, Kais stabbed his succourer through the
body from behind. And this base and treacherous procedure is
immortalised by a poem, which exactly suits the national taste
of the Arabs. So completely did the, avengement of blood
justify and extol, as brave and honourable, everything which we
would account infamous, and characteristic of a ruffian." ^
^ Commentary oti t'he Laios ofthe Hebrews, Book iii. art. 134.

Appendix. 289
This then is another purpose for which a lawful use was
assigned to treachery among rude people, viz. the execution of
justice. As a means of securing justice and the capture of
criminals, treachery was completely and boldly justified ; and
Jael's act had a strong alliance with this form and use of
treachery. Sisera was a criminal flying from the righteous
justice of God; she arrests his flight by false promises, and
engages him to accept hospitality within her tent. It is the
same dissimulation which the law of Goel adopts, only applied to
a different type of criminal. And like the deceit employed
under the law of Goel, it is not a general habit of deceit so much
as a local habit confined to a special set of circumstances, and
justified by the previous obligation to slay.

Lecture VIL, Note 7, p. 178.
The comparison between an earlier and a later age is pre
sented in the case of Lord Clive and bis Indian administration ;
and a long contest between two rival principles received a deci
sive settlement in English opinion. The great Indian statesman
had been under the dominion of the false principle of retaliation,
as a just mode of action under the difficulties of Indian admini
stration. It seemed necessary to meet fraud by fraud, tbe gross
chicanery of the Hindu by counter-trick. Simple honesty
appeared but a weak instrument to bring to bear against subtle
and inveterate deceit. Was it anything more on the part of an
English statesman, than to do justice to himself, when he resisted
one flagrant imposition by another ? " All was going well," says
Lord Macaulay, " when Clive learned that Omichund was likely
to play false. Tbe artful Bengalee had been promised a
liberal compensation for all that he had lost at Calcutta. But
this would not satisfy him. His services had been great. He
held the thread of the whole intrigue. By one word breathed
into the ear of Surajah Dowlah, he could undo all that he had
done. The lives of Watts, of Meer Jaffier, of all the conspirators,
were at his mercy ; and be determined to take advantage of bis
situation, and to make bis own terms. He demanded three hun
dred thousand pounds sterling as the price of his secrecy and of
his assistance. The committee, incensed by the treachery and ap-
U

290 Appendix.
palled by the danger, knew not what course to take. But Clive
was more than Omichund's match in Omichund's own arts. The
man, be said, was a villain. Any artifice which would defeat such
knavery was justifiable. The best course would be to promise
what was asked. Omichund would soon be at their mercy ; and
then they might punish him by withholding from him, not only
the bribe which he now demanded, but also the compensation
which all the other sufferers of Calcutta were to receive.
" His advice was taken. But bow was the wary and sagacious
Hindu to be deceived ? He had demanded that an article touch
ing his claims should be inserted in tbe treaty between Meer
Jaffier and the English, and he would not be satisfied unless he
saw it with bis own eyes. Clive had an expedient ready. Two
treaties were drawn up, one on white paper, the other on red,
the former real, the latter fictitious. In the former Omichund's
name was not mentioned ; the latter, which was to be shown to
him, contained a stipulation in his favour.
" But another difficulty arose. Admiral Watson had scruples
about signing the red treaty. Omichund's vigilance and acuteness
were such that the absence of so important a name would pro
bably awaken bis suspicions. But Clive was not a man to do
anything by halves. We almost blush to write it. He forged
Admiral Watson's name. . . .
" The new sovereign was notf called upon to fulfil the engage
ments into which he had entered with his allies. A conference
was held at the house of Jugget Seit, the great banker, for the
purpose of making tbe necessary arrangements. Omichund came
thither fully believing himself to stand high in the favour of Clive,
who, with dissimulation surpassing even the dissimulation of
Bengal, had up to that day treated him witb undiminished kind
ness. The white treaty was produced and read. Clive then
turned to Mr. Scrafton, one of the servants of the Company, and
said in English, 'It is now time to undeceive Omichund.'
'Omichund,' said Mr. Scrafton in Hindostanee, 'the red treaty
is a trick. You are to have nothing.' Omichund fell back insen
sible into the arms of bis attendants. He revived ; but bis mind
was irreparably ruined. Clive, who, though little troubled by
scruples of conscience in bis dealings with Indian politicians, was
not inhuman, seems to have been touched. He saw Omichund a

Appendix. 291
few days later, spoke to him kindly, advised him to make a pil
grimage to one of the great temples of India, in the hope that
change of scene might restore his health, and was even dis
posed, notwithstanding all that had passed, again to employ him
in the public service. But from the moment of that sudden
shock, the unhappy man sank gradually into idiocy. He, who
had formerly been distinguished by the strength of bis under
standing and the simplicity of his habits, now squandered tbe
remains of his fortune on childish trinkets, and loved to exhibit
himself dressed in rich garments, and hung with precious stones.
In this abject state he languished a few months, and.then died." ^
This policy bas received a defence from the old school of
statesmen, represented by the great statesman who practised
it ; but it has been utterly unable to stand its ground before pub
lic opinion ; and the verdict of the whole of English thought has
been that no amount of Hindu dishonesty is any justification of
our own. " That honesty is the best policy," says Lord Macaulay,
" is a maxim which we firmly believe to be generally correct, even
with respect to the temporal interests of individuals ; but, witb
respect to societies, the rule is subject to stiU fewer exceptions,
and that for this reason, that the Hfe of societies is longer than
the Hfe of individuals. It is possible to mention men who bave
owed great worldly prosperity to breaches of private faith. But
we doubt whether it be possible to mention a State which has on
the whole been a gainer by a breach of public faith. The entire
history of British India is an illustration of the great truth that
it is not prudent to oppose perfidy to perfidy, and that the most
efficient weapon with which men can encounter falsehood is truth.
During a long course of years, the English rulers of India, sur
rounded by allies and enemies whom no engagement could bind,
have generaUy acted witb sincerity and uprightness ; and the
event has proved that sincerity and uprightness are wisdom.
English valour and English intelligence bave done less to extend
and to preserve our Oriental empire than English veracity. All
that we could have gained by imitating the doublings, the evasions,
tbe fictions, the perjuries which bave been employed against us, is
as nothing, when compared with what we bave gained by being
the one power in India on whose ,word reUance can be placed.
^ Macaulay's Article on Lord Olive.

292 Appendix.
No oath which superstition can devise, no hostage, however
precious, inspires a hundredth part of the confidence which is pro
duced by the ' yea, yea,' and 'nay, nay,' of a British envoy." ^

Lecture IX., Note 8, p. 201.
" I MUST now speak (says Michaelis) of a person quite unknown
in our law, but very conspicuous in the Hebrew law, and in regard
to whom Moses has left us, I might almost say, an unexampled
proof of legislative wisdom. In German, we may call him by the
name which Luther so happily employs, in bis version of the
Bible, Der Blutracher, the blood-avenger ; and by this name we
must here understand ' tbe nearest relation of a person murdered,
whose right and duty it was to seek after and kiU the murderer
with his own hand ; so much so, indeed, that tbe neglect thereof
drew after it the greatest possible infamy, and subjected the man
who avenged not the death of bis relation to unceasing reproaches
of cowardice or avarice.' If, instead of this description, the
reader prefer a short definition, it may be to this effect ; ' the
nearest relation of a person murdered, whose right and duty it
was to avenge his kinsman's death with his own band.' Among
the Hebrews this person was called ?NJ, Goel, according, at least,
to the pronunciation adopted from the pointed Bibles. The
etymology of this word, like most forensic terms, is as yet
unknown. Yet we camiot but be curious to find out whence the
Hebrews had derived the name, which tbey appUed to a person
so peculiar to their own law, and so totally unknown to ours.
Unquestionably the verb fiW, Gaal, means to bwy off, ransom, redeem;
but this signification it has derived from tbe noun ; for origin
ally it meant to pollute or stain.
" If I might here mention a conjecture of my own, Goel of blood
(for that is the term at full length) implies blood-stained; and the
nearest kinsman of a murdered person was considered as stained
with his blood, until he had, as it were, washed away the stain,
and revenged the death of his relation. The name, therefore,
indicates a person who continued in a state of dishonour, until
he again rendered himself honourable, by the exercise and accom-
pUshment of revenge ; and in this very light do the Arabs regard
^ Macaulay's Article on Lord Cline.

Appendix. 293
the kinsman of a person murdered. It was no doubt afterwards
used, in a more extensive sepise, to signify the nearest relation in
general, and although there was no murder in the case ; just as in
aU languages words are gradually extended far beyond their
etymological meaning. ... In Arabic writings, this word
occurs ten times for once that we meet witb Goel in Hebrew ;
for the Arabs, among whom the point of honour and heroic
celebrity consists entirely in the revenge of blood, have much
more to say of their blood-avenger than the Hebrews ; among
whom, Moses, by the wisdom of bis laws, brought this character,
in a great measure, into obUvion 
" Moses found the Goel already instituted, and speaks of him in
his laws as a character perfectly known, and therefore unneces
sary to be described; at the same time that be expresses bis fear
of bis frequently shedding innocent blood. But long before he
has occasion to mention bim as the avenger of murder, he intro
duces his name in his laws relative to land, as in Lev. xxv. 25,
where he gives him the right of redeeming a mortgaged field. . .
" The only book that is possibly more ancient than the Mosaic
law, namely the book of Job, compares God, who will re-demand
our ashes from the earth, with the Goel, chap. xix. 25. From
this term the verb ^JW, which otherwise signifies properly to pollute,
had already acquired the significations of redeeming, setting free,
vindicating, in which we find Moses often using it, before he
ever speaks of tbe blood-avenger, as in Gen. xlviii. 1 5 ; Exod.
vi. 6 . . . ; and even re-purchase itself, is, in Lev. xxv. 31, 32,
thence termed n?KJ geulla. Derivatives in any language follow
their primatives, but very slowly ; and when verba denominativa
descend from terms of law, the law itself must be ancient.
" . . . . Mahomet endeavoured to mitigate this law, which
was often dangerous to innocence ; but unfortunately he began at
the wrong end. For, instead of enjoining a previous investigation,
that an innocent person might not suffer instead of the guilty,
he recommended as an act of mercy, pleasing in the sight of
God, the acceptance of a pecuniary compensation from the actual
murderer, in lieu of revenge. His words are : ' In cases of
murder, retaliation is prescribed to tbe faithful, so that freeman
must die for freeman, slave for slave, wife for wife. But when
a man's nearest kinsman departs from that right, he has a just

294 Appendix.
claim against the murderer for a moderate compensation in
money, tbe acceptance of which is an alleviation of the crime in
the sight of God, and an act of mercy. But if he afterwards
oversteps this rale,' (that is by kiUing the person to whom he
has remitted the murder), ' God will punish him severely. For
the security of your Uves rests on the right of retaliation.' — (See
chap. ii. ofthe Koran, v. 173-176.)
" In this strange law, which, in fact, makes the right of retalia
tion quite ineffectual to the security of a man's life, because it
can be compounded for by the payment of money to his kinsman,
Mahomet manifests a much greater opposition to the national
maxims of honour than a wise legislator would have done, by
representing as merciful, and pleasing to God, a practice which
to be sure was not uncommon, but still was deemed base
and selfish. . . . But on the principles of sound philosophy,
such a transaction is by no means acceptable in the sight of God,
who commands murderers to be punished without mercy, that
men's lives may be secure ; and an Arab, bred up in the national
ideas of honour, must always bave had a stronger inclination to
trespass a precept of his religion, thus half left to his option,
than to forfeit his honour. I remember a passage of an Arabian
poet, who Uved before Mahomet, which describes cowards in the
following terms : ' Those who injure tbem they forgive, and to the
wicked they repay good for evil : men so pious as they are, God
has not created among all the human race besides. But give me
the man who, when he mounts his horse or camel, is furious in
attacking his enemy.' . . . Now where poems of such a nature
express the sentiments of a nation, a precept of false moraUty,
recommending mercy and forgiveness in tbe wrong place, could
scarcely have much influence, except with a few enthusiasts, who
might happen to be among the people, and whose beUef of
religion was very ardent.
" No doubt, in those countries without the bounds of Arabia,
where the people had not the same ideas of honour in avenging
blood, and where the Mahomedan religion, which its victorious
adherents propagated by the sword, was adopted only from
terror, as in Persia for instance, such an admonition might have
an influence on the law. Chardin, in his Travels, relates that in
that country, when a person is murdered, Ma relations go before

Appendix. 295
a court of justice, making a great outcry, and demanding that
the murderer be delivered up to them, that they may satiate
their revenge ; and that he is accordingly delivered up to tbem
by the judge, in these words : ' I give this murderer into your
bands ; take satisfaction yourselves for the blood he has shed ;
but remember that God is just and merciful ; ' wMch manifestly
aUude to tbe two passages above-quoted from the Koran, — the
relations may then, if they please, put bim to death, and that in
whatever way they think fit. A rich murderer, on the other
hand, endeavours to accommodate matters with the relations of
the murdered person, and to prevail on them to accept a
pecuniary compensation ; and the judge, to whom he also gives
money, exhorts them to mercy, that is to be satisfied with such
a compensation, although he cannot compel them to accept it." '
' Michaelis' Commevia/ries on the Lmis of Moses, Book iii. Arts. 131, 184, 136

Printed by R. '& R. Clark, Editiiurgk,