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solately maundering in the rear. Poetry, not theology, may be the glory of Weimar now, but theology made Germany a nation once; this, poetry, at any rate the poetry of Goethe, did not attempt. He received the cross of the Legion of Honour from Napoleon. Mr. Lewes says it was then an honour; we suppose he means, to a Frenchman. In the case of a German patriot it is difficult to appreciate the value of the distinction. Assuredly, from the retrospect of Goethe's life, there is nothing to lead to the conclusion that religious doubt and the rejection of Christian doctrine supply vigour to the soul, or stimulate loftier morality. The reverse is only too apparent. Nor can art or culture supply the deficiency; they may afford gratification to the student, or refinement to society, but they add no essential element of strength; they may furnish zest to the enjoyment of life, but they neither teach men how to live. nor how to die; and yet, if man is anything better than the beasts that perish, this would seem to be the most essential of all knowledge. The life of Goethe is, taking all circumstances into account, one of the most remarkable instances we know of the utter failure of all else in the absence of a definite creed; we ought, perhaps, more distinctly to say, of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. And yet, perhaps, it is hardly necessary to assert this, for the most abject superstitions have done as much, nay more, for their votaries, than his negations did for Goethe. It is touching to recall the last utterances of this mighty genius. "See," he exclaimed, "the lovely woman's head-with black curls-in splendid colours-a dark background.” In silent anguish the close, now so nearly approaching, was awaited. His speech was becoming less and less distinct. The last words audible were, "More light!" "More light!" He was now passing through the valley of the shadow of death. He had kindled for himself fire; he had compassed himself about with sparks; he had walked in the light of his fire and in the sparks that he had kindled. But the light of his fire was now quenched, and the sparks which he had kindled emitted no light. He was now lying down in sorrow, and darkness that might be felt was compassing him about. It is a grand thought of Plato, " that light is but a shadow of God;" out of such shadows, light material, light intellectual, Goethe had never emerged; he was, at his best, still wandering in them when death overtook him. Shadows, we are told, are very dark when the light that surrounds them appears, so the infinite brightness of the glory of God overcasts all other glory whatever with night and obscurity. Happy would it have been for Goethe had he in due season been a follower of Him who is the true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world, and had been of the number of those who believe on His name. Then darkness would have Vol. 73.-No. 436.

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been light before him. That which he had through life craved for he had never realized, for the Sun of Righteousness had not arisen upon his soul with healing in his wings. Contrast with this the language of St. Paul :-"I have fought a good fight; I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day; and not to me only, but unto them also that love His appearing." But then the Apostle knew in whom he had believed. In the midst of all the many things which Goethe knew, of this cardinal truth and true and sufficient consolation, he was wholly ignorant, and darkness, not light, was his portion.

MOSSMAN'S HISTORY OF THE EARLY CHRISTIAN CHURCH.

Mossman's History of the Early Christian Church. London: Longmans. 1873.

THE history of primitive Christianity presents, to the mind of the thoughtful student, a twofold contrast with other departments of history, religious and secular, subsequent to the birth of Christ. Understanding by the term "primitive" that period of time which is embraced within the volume before us, we are struck by the limited amount of the materials on which the historian has to depend for his facts.

The authorities for his narrative lie within a small compass. He has not to search for them among the buried treasures of great libraries; nor can he hope, after years of toil, to exhume more than one or two fragments, like the Muratorian Canon, which had escaped the discovery of literary explorers. The original sources of information on the history of Christianity down to the middle of the second century are to be found in the library of every student of theology, and are, for the most part, accessible in the form of translations to the English reader. The stream of Church history is at first so narrow that he who tracks its course can almost take it in at a glance; and though his path may often be rugged and precipitous, like the bed of the stream itself, yet the opposite bank, and all that lies between, are rarely hidden from his sight. He may fail to map its rapids or its shallows, its calmer deeps or its wilder eddies; but this failure is due, not to the breadth of the current, but rather to the incapacity of the traveller, or to obstacles which intercept and mists which distort his view.

Now from this paucity of material (which is especially apparent in reference to the latter part of the first century) it has

resulted that, in some professed histories, a great deal of conjecture has been made to supply the place of facts, and the baffled champion of an indefensible theory has escaped, like some Homeric chief, in a cloud of imagination. Another result, scarcely if at all less mischievous, is, that doubtful legend has been wrought into undoubted history, and documents of later and questionable authenticity adduced to countervail the testimony or explain the silence of genuine records. In this respect we must hold Mr. Mossman to be an offender against the laws of historic justice. His book is described on the title-page as "a History of the Catholic Church of Jesus Christ, from the death of St. John to the Middle of the Second Century." But no fewer than 130 pages out of 476 are devoted to a discussion -we had almost said a panegyric-of Montanism. It is not difficult to assign a reason for this chronological trespass. In the recognition of Montanism Mr. Mossman finds (or thinks that he finds) an argument against Episcopacy; and though we hesitate so far to parody Macaulay's terrible epigram as to describe his system as one in which the two great precepts are that we should hate Bishops and love Montanus, yet we cannot believe that an author so learned and painstaking as Mr. Mossman would have included in his work the history of the Montanist heresy, had he not been blinded by prejudice against the order and succession of Bishops. It is now pretty well established that the heresy which bears the name of Montanus did not commence till A.D. 150, the period which Mr. Mossman fixes as the inferior limit of his history.*

Again, as we read Chapter V. on the Primitive Constitution of the Church of Alexandria, we are continually asking ourselves the question, Can this be a chapter of a history terminating with the middle of the second century? The use made of the socalled "Acts of St. Mark" (which are rightly, as Mr. Mossman confesses, "relegated to the domain of legend"); the repeated references to St. Jerome, and long quotations from his writings; the appeal to an unknown author" of the fourth century," in support of anti prelatic views, all these things show that Mr. Mossman has travelled far out of the record, and that his book ought to bear another designation than that which he has chosen to give it.

Öf inferences which Mr. Mossman continually draws from the legends and spurious writings of the Ante-Nicene period, we shall not err in saying that they are not more trustworthy than the sources from which they come. But such inferences are likely to be further vitiated by what mathematicians call the "personal error," and, even as inferences, may need correction, apart from the story or statement which suggests them. * See Gieseler, Eccl. Hist., § 48, note 5.

"Legend," says Mr. Mossman, "in the crucible of critical historical analysis, may sometimes be made to yield results as valuable as statements of facts, whose literal truth no one has ever for a moment thought of questioning." This is undoubtedly a bold assertion, a historical canon which ought to be very cantiously applied. No one ought to employ this method unless he is quite certain that he is the fortunate possessor of this "crucible of critical historical analysis." From what we have observed of its working, we should say that it is a dangerous instrument. It has often condemned as dross the genuine metal, and has given a fictitious value to a base alloy.

We are far enough from disapproving of a fair and liberal nse of all the materials which the historian has within his reach; but a fair use of such materials will involve, not only a clear discrimination between history and legend, but a modest and cautions assertion of conclusions (however logically arrived at) from premisses which are themselves doubtful. In a word, we demand that a plain line of demarcation should be drawn between the solid ground of historical fact and the quicksand of arbitrary critical inference.

Recurring to what has been said on the chronological extravagances of our author, we should not lay so much stress on this kind of inaccuracy, if it were merely a violation of literary proportion. It is this. Looked at as a whole, Mr. Mossman's volume reminds us of a headless statue on a huge and clumsy pedestal. We conld dispense with the pedestal, but we should like to see the head restored. In other words, a work like this, which, though ostensibly narrative, is really argumentative-at times, controversial-should commence with an earlier period of history if it is to include a later than that which it professes to embrace. The post-Apostolic age gains from Scripture far more light than it reflects upon the historic record of the New Testament. Indeed, the writings of the early Fathers would be often misleading, sometimes unintelligible, if we had not the Inspired record to guide us in our study of them.

And this leads us to notice a second characteristic of early Church History. The only, yet sufficient, account we possess of the infancy and early years of the Church of Christ is contained in documents perfectly trustworthy, because free from all admixture of prejudice or partiality, or other cause of error. Over the cradle of Christianity as over that of its Divine Founder there shines a star, whose brightness is sufficient to guide the humble seeker after truth to the Source of Truth itself. And, whereas, in the civil history of nations, the further the historian goes back in his researches the more uncertain becomes his path, the murkier the gloom in which he finds himself immersed; the Church historian, on the other hand, knows that

the institution whose course he traces had its source in a region of cloudless light, and that the further he recedes from that source, the more difficult becomes his progress, the more precarious his steps. Hence, most of those who have essayed to trace either the outer or inner life of the Early Church have started with an enquiry into its origin as recorded by Evangelists and Apostles. They have dated their era, not from the death of the last of the Apostles, but from the birth of Christ Himself. And they have used the early Fathers to illustrate (sometimes by way of contrast, oftener by way of example) the conclusions to which a study of the New Testament has brought them.

It would not be too much to say that Mr. Mossman has reversed this process, so far indeed as he has appealed to Scripture at all. His work "is presented by the author as an Eirenicon to his fellow Christians throughout the world." In common with many thoughtful Christians in this age of unrest, he longs for the healing of "our unhappy divisions," and the hushing of the strife of tongues. Who does not sympathise with such a longing? Who does not admire the man who honestly sets himself to discover and apply the means of uniting in the bonds of a true fraternity all who bear the name and profess the faith of Christ? No one can read a passage like the following (and many such might be quoted from the volume before us) without giving Mr. Mossman credit for the most earnest desire for a visible union of Christendom :

"Surely, if the salt have not wholly lost its savour, some one in authority, some Bishop or prelate, will at length arise, and be largehearted enough to say to his separated brethren of the family of God-There has been enough of strife, enough of division. Henceforth let us be one in Christ. We do not ask for your submission, as we have done in the weary ages of controversy that are past. We ask for nothing, we wish for nothing, save your unfeigned love. Your Ministers we regard as Ministers of Christ, in accordance with their work for Him, though you may not call them by our names; and in you we gladly recognize the work and the fruits of the Spirit of grace, in just as full measure as we behold them amongst ourselves."" (Preface, p. xvii.)

This is evidently the utterance of a loving Christian heart, weary of controversy and sighing for the accomplishment of the Saviour's Prayer-"That they all may be one."

But while thus recognizing the earnestness and desire for comprehension by which Mr. Mossman is actuated, we cannot agree with him either as to the nature of the "Eirenicon," or the results likely to follow its reception. It is clear that he considers the assertion of the Divine Institution of the Episcopate as a distinct Order, to be one of the chief obstacles to Christian union. He has learnt from early Christian writings

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