Chapter IX: Preface (8)

But this is not the case. No doubt both the first ten and the last twelve letters of the Hebrew alphabet are hieroglyphics, as their very names indicate; but in its primary natural roots, nevertheless, and, above all, in its whole spirit, and structure, and tone, this language differs widely from the hieroglyphical Egyptian. Certainly Moses did learn from Egypt all that there was for him to learn. And this learning enabled him the more easily to disperse the thick Egyptian darkness, and the less cause, consequently, had he to fear the false arts of the Egyptian magicians and serpent-charmers. He took from them all that was available for his purpose, but he made it quite new again, and gave it another nature by the end to which he employed it. He despoiled them of their “jewels of gold and jewels of silver,” by a theft permissible in the realm of science and truth. For it is lawful for man to wrest from the evil power all that may be converted into a means of honoring the things of God and His revealed truth, and which thereby is better employed, spiritualized, and invested with a higher and better significance. This is true even of our own days, as it was then, and, indeed, always has been.

Oh, that the many great men who, in our own generation, have deserved so well of mankind, by devoting themselves to the noble work of re-establishing right sentiments and principles, had, in this their good design, followed the great example set them by this man so highly preferred of God! But, with one or two exceptions, it is impossible to boast of them that, like Moses, they were “learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.” And hence the fact is at once explicable why, with such ardent and unbounded zeal, they should have effected comparatively so little against the modern Egyptians, and the new Egyptian darkness of our own days.

An intellectual conflict about truth, and, indeed, about divine truth, is the struggle of our age. This fact is already seen and admitted by a few, but, ere long, it will be still more generally acknowledged. God is a spirit of truth; and even on this account is His adversary, the spirit of contradiction, termed “a liar from the beginning;” and, of all the powerful instruments and wicked devices of that evil one, the lie is the first and chiefest. And this suggests to me to notice, in passing, a point in the moral systems of our day, notwithstanding that it does not properly lie within our prescribed limits. In most of our ethical treatises the question of falsehood and untruth is but carelessly treated, and seldom discussed with that prominence and gravity which its great importance demands. Overt transgressions of the laws belong rather to jurisprudence than to ethics, which properly treats of and analyzes the leading faults of human character as so many diseases of the soul. Now, the worst among these are usually denominated mortal, _i.e._, likely to bring the soul unto death; but the lie, in the full import of the term--the intrinsic proper lie of the soul, as the predominant fault in a character of untruth--a whole life become, as it were, one great lie, is far more than mortal--it is even death itself. And it is even of this sin--this secret revolting against and wounding of the Spirit, even the divine Spirit of Eternal Truth--that is said in Holy Writ, that it shall be forgiven neither in this world nor in the next.

On this point, then, I think that moral theory and teaching can never be stern and rigorous enough in its precepts, especially as regards individuals. It is not, indeed, a question about words, but about their interpretation, and what is meant by those who use them; and in this respect there may be, and often is a false and over-scrupulous delicacy of conscience. When, however, we remember how, in particular ages of history, oaths have been played with--millions of oaths lavishly proffered and shortly retaken in quite a different and opposite sense, and soon again abjured with as little difficulty; and when we consider the evil effects this trifling with the most solemn of obligations must have had on the moral character of a people, we can not but see some excuse in this monstrous fact for certain small communities of Christians who absolutely refuse to take an oath in any case. For when, in the important point of truth and falsehood, a grave error has been committed on one side, it is better to meet it on the other by too great strictness. A rigorous severity can never entail such fearful consequences in such a case, as the opposite fault of an over-indulgent laxity, or, what is even still more false and erroneous, the regarding the matter as trifling and indifferent. But the further prosecution of this topic would lead me out of my proper province, and I have only touched upon it in passing to that which lies more immediately before us.

If, then, there is nothing so dangerous to the character of an individual, both inwardly and outwardly--if there is nothing that works so insidiously, conveying its secret poison to the very lowest roots and extremities of the moral character, as untruth and the spirit of lying, how much more fearful must its malignant influence prove when it is become the universal and prevailing fault of an age which has not only wandered far from the truth, but is even animated with a deadly hatred of it!

It is to this spirit of lies, and the false splendor of his colossal empire, and to the final conflict which truth will have to wage with it on earth, that the most awful of the prophecies already alluded to refer. And the application is easily made, since a greater part of their warning denunciations have in our age already come to an actual fulfillment. If, then, this giant spirit of destruction and untruth was strong enough even in his cradle to throttle two quarters of the world,[47] what must it be now that the permitted interval of rest has passed away without being profitably employed to the cause of truth, and now that this same spirit of murder and lies, with a far greater body, and endued with far more magical powers, is let loose again to tread the earth for a while with iron feet, and to deceive the nations?

Those whose responsible position in public life, or comprehensive sphere of intellectual activity, enable them to take in at one glance all the various elements of evil and pernicious principles and destructive tendencies which are so actively at work in our days, will not, perhaps, be disposed to regard these remarks as groundless or exaggerated; others, perhaps, may make a mock at them--but they may go on in their delusion for a while.

In conclusion, I have but three observations to add. The first regards the divine permission of evil, and is intended to form a supplement to that Theodicée which I have attempted, in the only way that such a justification of the divine ways is permissible to man, by appealing, viz., to his feelings, rather than by attempting to force his conviction by the rigor of demonstration. The full justification of the ways of Providence is reserved for a future day, when all mouths shall be stopped, whether that awful crisis be near at hand or yet tarries for a while. If, now, the human race be actually sick and in a sickly state, as indeed can not well be denied, then must God’s overruling providence in the affairs of the world be judged of in the same light as, and be compared to, the wise treatment of a skillful physician. For as the latter, in the case of a patient whose death was to be apprehended from a total prostration of his bodily powers and energy, might wish for or even venture to super-induce a violent paroxysm, in the hope that in it he might perhaps be able to throw off his fatal lethargy; even so, in God’s government of the world, those predetermined counsels, which seem so singular, but, nevertheless, are so expressly foretold, may have a somewhat similar design. In the times of the last struggle the power of darkness will probably work itself to death on the earth; and while the remnant shall come out of the crisis and fiery trial purer and healthier, the divine truth is to gain a complete triumph over sin and death.

The second remark I have to make applies to ourselves and all the well-disposed among our cotemporaries, and refers to the disunion which subsists in these evil times even among the best of men. Were two nations threatened in common by a formidable enemy, would they not, however widely they might differ in, or perhaps be estranged from each other by their respective constitutions languages, and customs, forget in the moment of danger their characteristic differences, and, laying aside all previous feelings of jealousy or estrangement, unite for their mutual protection and safety? My heart’s wish, therefore, is that all the truly pious and well-wishers of truth, on whichever of the two sides of the now divided faith they may stand, would unite together without sacrificing those more intimate differences which can not at present be got rid of or reconciled, and, making a righteous peace of mutual forbearance, join together in a firm alliance against the common enemy of all truth and all faith. For that the dearest interests of religion are in our generation exposed to a violent assault, and menaced with great and immediate danger, will not be denied by any lover of truth, even though his conception of the truth may differ from mine.

Lastly, the third observation that I promised will not take the form of the utterance of a wish, as rather of the expression of the firmest conviction, that, however awful and severe this final conflict may prove, the good cause will not eventually be lost, but that the great battle will have a favorable issue in the complete victory of divine revelation, and the celestial wisdom in the government of this kingdom of truth will be fully manifest both to men and angels.

LECTURE VIII.

OF THE DIVINE ORDER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD AND THE RELATIONS OF STATES.

“The history of the world is the world’s tribunal,”[48] says one of our most famous poets. If by these words he meant to convey an opinion that no other tribunal of judgment is to be expected than that which is even now set up in the history of the world, then such an opinion, implying that the human race is to live forever in its present state, and in this particular terrestrial life, would be even as groundless as that of the fanciful conceit that the human race had existed from all eternity, if, in sooth, any of the philosophical dreamers of antiquity had ever fallen on such a fancy, or, in modern times, any of the antipodes to the usual current mode of thinking should ever stumble upon it. The poet himself, as dramatist and artist, would but have taken it ill had any one laid before him a great drama, composed of several acts and scenes, from which, however, the beginning was torn off, and which, ever going on, untied the existing perplexities only to fall again into new and fresh complications; or like a poor journal ever referring to a continuation, had no true end, no conclusion or proper termination. But unquestionably a better sense is also contained in the poet’s words. He may have merely meant to say that the mind which rules the course of mundane affairs is a mind that inflicts retribution on the world; and that all the great epochs and incidents of history have a retributive character and vindicatory significance.[49] Such an interpretation of the words, which indeed suits well with the author’s serious mind and character, would bring them in perfect unison with my own sentiments, and adequately express the truth which forms the theme of our present consideration on the divine order in the history of the human race.

The human race, then, as it had a beginning, so also will it have an end; it will not continue forever in this present form, but must eventually come to a termination. But, to speak according to the measure of a divine chronology, where a thousand years are but as one day, who can say, who shall dare, off-hand, to decide whether six or seven of these great days of God are fixed for its duration? Enough to know that we stand on the borders of the fourth age, and on the passage from the third to the fourth. And not unimportant is it, on the other hand, for the clear understanding of the whole, to form a right conception of each of these, its great divisions and epochs. The first age is made up of the twenty-five centuries of obscure primeval history. The second, which we called the age of preparation, is formed by the fifteen hundred years which we reckon from the end of the first up to the center and turning-point of the history of the world as known to us, and from which modern history takes its commencement. Even in the oldest traditionary history of the Gentile nations of antiquity we do not meet with any statements that can be relied upon, or any tenable data beyond, if indeed so far back as, the fifteenth century before the epoch of the commencement of modern history. The fifteen centuries which follow this epoch form the third age, in which this principle of a new life in the spiritual, moral, and political world had to develop and completely to unfold itself. In the last Lecture I also reckoned in this period the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries of our era. But if it seems to any more advisable to consider these as the introductory portion of the fourth and subsisting age, there is nothing positively to condemn such a mode of reckoning; only, for my part, I can not but regard it as less correct and more inaccurate than the one which I have proposed. In one case as well as the other the same important consideration will be involved. Reckoning from some point or other within these last forty years, we have, it must be acknowledged by all, entered upon a grand and decisive epoch in the history of the world; and our attention can not be too often or too strongly directed to the fact, that we stand at the critical point of transition from one great period to another.

Now one of the most characteristic signs by which such important moments of general revolution in the history of the world are, for the most part, known and distinguished, is a number of great events pressed closely together and following each other in rapid succession; or, in other words, the accelerated course of time. It is no new remark, that, in the political history of our own age, modern Europe has, in the short space of two-and-twenty years, ran through all the epochs of the old Roman world, from the first party struggles of the republic, and its long wars with Carthage, that mistress of the seas, up to the imperial rule of the Cæsars, in the first reigns mild and indulgent, but at the last so fearfully oppressive and cruel; and even up to the final immigration of the northern nations. Such a simple remark is alone sufficient proof that another law now rules in the history of the world--a quicker life pulsates in its arteries than beat in the calmer days of old. Whether, however, this life be thoroughly sound, or, on the contrary, sickly and feverish, that is quite another question.

But not only in the political world, but also in the intellectual domain of science has the same accelerated course been noticeable. Only, as compared with that of antiquity, the course or direction pursued by modern science is altogether different. We have traveled with equal celerity, but in quite an opposite course to the ancients. Starting from the last term, we have reversed the series of their mental progression. First of all, in the last decades of the preceding century, the Epicurean cast of thought, or one very nearly resembling it, was the one chiefly predominant in the philosophical world. And then, together with but subordinate to it, came scholastic subtilties and hair-splitting distinctions, similar to those of the later Greek schools, not unaccompanied, perhaps, with the same patient industry of research and extensive erudition, and exercising altogether on the minds of men an influence no less wide, nor less pernicious, than did the most brilliant of the sophists of Greece. All the erroneous systems which it was possible for the human mind to embrace, and which are grounded in its essential qualities, or which could possibly originate in any (so to speak) of its inborn misconceptions, which it took the Greeks several centuries to evolve in slow succession, our age has rapidly, and almost simultaneously, run through in as many decades. And in this fact, if I do not greatly deceive myself, there is much ground of consolation. It encourages me to hope that this inverse progression is leading us back again to the truth--that in this ascending line we are gradually coming nearer to the better times of the first great philosophers of Greece--of a Plato, a Socrates, and a Pythagoras. It must be self-evident, that in this case, and still more so in that analogy of political history which I have so recently noticed, as generally, in all such historical parallels, nothing more is intended to be asserted than a general resemblance, which, however, as such, is eminently remarkable. It would not, perhaps, be difficult anxiously to work out the general resemblance into points of detail, but such an overwrought assimilation could only lead to false conclusions and results.

Now that the conflict which our age has to go through is eminently intellectual is implied simply in the prevailing notion of a _public opinion_ and its influence. But, at the same time, we must observe, that in the very notion of opinion, and in the word itself, there is involved a certain character of extreme vagueness and uncertainty. No doubt that which man can properly be said to know is extremely limited and confined. Of very much all that we can have is merely an opinion, and with that must we be content to put up. Nay, inasmuch as all scientific certainty admits not of being imparted to all men, very much of that which we do properly and certainly know is best and most beneficially set forth to others merely as an opinion, in order that we may not seem to force their minds to the admission of this higher certainty. And what is there that the passions of a prejudiced or excited multitude can not be made to adopt as an opinion, which, if presented to them as a sober conviction of reason, would never make an impression? So devoid are they, generally, of that intelligence and accurate knowledge of men and things which are essential and necessary to the formation of a right judgment. If, instead of public opinion (which, unquestionably, is a great power, but which, if it takes a wrong direction, is also a very dangerous one), the appeal were to be made to a public conscience, this would be, to my mind, far more impressive and serious. To illustrate my meaning:--the impression which the events of 1793 made on the general feeling of all Europe, and the universal movement of discontent which, among all European nations, preceded the great political catastrophe of our own days, are instances to which the old maxim, _vox populi vox Dei_, may, without hesitation, be applied. Such feelings are founded on a true and higher judgment--often on a correct presentiment of evil and wrong--even though, as we must admit, that in their utterance more or less of passion and exaggeration reveals itself, and that individual prejudices are not unfrequently mixed up with them. But now seldom, in the ebbing and flooding tide, in the ever-changing course of the stream of public opinion, flows there aught that truly deserves to be called a public judgment. And yet public opinion is even that on which, in this respect, and relatively to the theme of our present Lecture, every thing mainly and principally turns.

In discussing the theory of consciousness a chasm remained, or, rather, was intentionally left open, and the present seems the appropriate place for filling it up and supplying it. The power, or, rather, the faculty of judgment has not, as yet, had its place assigned it. The reason, with its immediate subordinates, memory and conscience--the fancy, with its subordinates, the senses and inclinations, form six faculties of the inner man, with which the understanding and will make together eight. The ninth is the living, loving, feeling soul, which, although it be the center of the whole consciousness, must, nevertheless, be counted as an independent and peculiar faculty. As for the heart [_Gemuth_]--as some peculiarly designate the collective sum of the tender, moral emotions of the soul, and which, at any rate, must be carefully distinguished from the conscience, and also from love--it is, however, a kind of application of the triple relation and function of the soul rather than an independent faculty. But the tenth faculty, which completes the whole cycle and theory of the human consciousness, and which may be regarded as its crown and perfection, is the judgment, or, in other words, the judging mind [_geist_].

But now, if this term judgment be understood purely in a logical sense, as that process of thought which forms combinations and deductions, and by means of which we ascribe to a subject A a predicate B, this would fall very far short of the signification in which I here intend it to be taken. Moreover, it would be, in truth, quite a superfluous task to separate this cogitative relation, or this relative cogitation, from the other logical functions of the understanding, and to make of it a special and independent faculty. The judgment is something higher than this mere coupling in the thought of some special A with some general B. Understanding is the cognition of spirit and of that which it has uttered; and judgment is the decision between two things understood, or the “discerning of spirits.” Of how great a multitude of intellectual relations does a scientific or even an artistic judgment imply the coincidence and concurrent action! And yet these are merely private judgments, which involve an assenting feeling in the individual, but beyond that can not pretend to any valid authority. In practical life the judicial function in the state alone furnishes an adequate standard for estimating the high rank which the faculty of judgment holds as the center of the human consciousness. For, in the deliberative sentence of the judge there is comprised both the mature art of the understanding--which has taken due cognizance of the matter, and impartially discerned between two objects equally well understood--and also a determination of the will: for, though the actual carrying into effect--that which properly and peculiarly constitutes a willing--belong not to, but is independent of, the judge’s office, still the conclusion of a positive judgment implies the existence of the first determining motive of the will. In this one act of judging, therefore, there is contained both functions of the mind [_geist_], understanding and willing; and as the loving soul is the center of the consciousness, so the judging mind, or spirit, is the highest of all its operations.

In the Book of Truth there is a sentence which admits of application here. “There is none good,” it is there written, “but one, that is, God.” However harsh and severe this judgment may sound at the first hearing, still, upon a little reflection, we shall see ample cause to admit its justice. Man is not wholly and purely good; at the very best he is not free from faults, and more or less of imperfection cleaves to all that he does or is. And even granting that a man might be found devoid of all admixture of imperfection, and quite faultless and thoroughly good, still he was not so always and from the first. And even if any should here urge that the angels, who have continued such as they were originally created, were good from the beginning, we must remember that, at least, they are not good in and by themselves, but that, that they are good, comes from God, who is the source of all goodness. Now, just in the same sense can we also say, Who judges rightly? There is none that judges rightly but one, _i.e._, God. He is Himself the truth; and, therefore, He alone has the standard of truth in Himself, and all truth has its ground and principle in Him alone. Every individual judgment and decision, in all important matters, has its ground, either mediately or immediately, in this divine basis, and its rectitude must be estimated according to this standard. But this latter condition need not make us foolishly anxious, for nothing impossible is required of us by God; and this requisition, like every other which He lays upon man, is modified by, and adjusted to, the measure of human finiteness. The conscientious judge, who, after a patient investigation of the cause as it is laid before him, and after a careful weighing of all the possible reasons and motives, nevertheless errs, or is deceived by a rare coincidence of circumstances, stands, nevertheless, exonerated, even though he should have passed an unjust sentence, and have had the misfortune to condemn the innocent. Although, when he becomes aware of it, the thought must be painful enough to his own feelings, yet who, in justice, can reproach him merely because he was not omniscient? He who, in thought, in science, and in faith, adheres to this divine foundation--the best and most certain that he can find, or that is any where offered to him, may rest calm and composed; he has done the utmost that lies in his power. He alone, who makes a bad use of what he has and what has been given to him, like an unjust steward, need fear to give an account of his stewardship.

This reference of all judicial sentences to, and their foundation in a divine authority, is an idea which was not unknown even to the republican states of antiquity, as is evident from the way they expressed themselves on the irrefragable sanctity of the laws and the inviolability of the supreme judicial power, and also in the maxims which they practically advanced on this subject. They honored herein a higher and a diviner principle, of which, however, in theory they possessed no clear and perfect knowledge, though in practical life they were taught by a correct feeling of sound reason and the natural conscience accurately enough to recognize and steadily and distinctly to respect it. With us still more generally is it become an admitted doctrine that all sovereignty and kingly power is of God, and that all obedience to the laws and to the supreme authority in the state rests ultimately on a divine foundation and sanction. If very recently men were for a while disposed to argue that political institutions must be founded on the reason and its unconditional liberty, yet bitter experience quickly convinced them of their error, and it was soon fully refuted by the convincing argument of actual fact. And, accordingly, theory has for the most part reverted to a right principle, and recognized the divine authority as the true foundation of political authority.

But the principle being thus generally recognized, it is, I think, still necessary to distinguish with care and accurately to define in what sense the supreme ruler of the state is the vicegerent of God. The indefinite titles which are assumed by Eastern despots have always been alien to the habits of the West. But it is not enough to avoid such exaggerated titles of honor, if, nevertheless, the appeal to divine right be made so very vaguely, and simply in general terms to God himself. In His absolute essence, God is wholly inconceivable; it is only in his operations on man and nature, and in His relations to the human race, that we can at all think precisely of Him. It is only as Creator of the world, as the Lawgiver of nature, or as the Benefactor and Redeemer of mankind, and so forth, that we can form a clear and distinct notion of the Godhead.

Now, is the supreme ruler of the state God’s deputy as Creator of the world? Who would venture to assert any thing of the kind? It is true that the paternal rule of the earthly parent, and the universal feeling among all peoples and nations of the sanctity of a father’s authority, rests on a resemblance--which is, however, only symbolical--between his relation and that of our unseen Father which is in heaven. And it is no less true, also, that the reign of a truly paternal monarch over his people may be regarded as a mere amplification of the father’s government of his family; a good king is the father of his people. But such remote, although most significant analogies, furnish us with no precise notion of right; and it is on such alone that the whole question here turns. No doubt when a people is governed well and wisely--which is even the same as to say, paternally governed--it exhibits a wonderful power of natural development; productive industry flourishes, population increases, and its physical and mental cultivation advances rapidly. Unfavorable seasons may undoubtedly check this tendency, and it will be entirely stopped as soon as the subject refuses to follow with loving confidence the guiding hand of the paternal monarch. Whenever they whose duty it is to obey seek to be supreme, then are the natural energies of a great people transmuted into a fearful element of universal desolation.

If now we inquire in the next place how far it is allowable to compare the highest authority in the state to the Lawgiver of nature, we shall find that even in this respect the difference is so very great that analogy almost entirely fails us. Holy, unquestionably, are the laws of every political community in respect to the duty of obedience which they suppose and require; but this is not paid spontaneously and naturally, but needs to be enforced and maintained by pains and penalties. And not to speak of the stem laws of retributive justice, but rather of those mild and equitable enactments designed for the general benefit and the improvement of the whole community; these are still more subject to the imperfection and manifold changes of human things. Suppose, for instance, a measure promulgated in any country with the design of balancing in some degree the agricultural and the manufacturing interests--however wisely designed, it is found within a few years to have totally failed; under it misery has but increased on both sides, and the law must be repealed or modified. But it is not so with the laws which God has implanted in the system of the universe: they never fail of their intended effect.

Do we further ask in what, if in any respect, the earthly sovereign is the deputy of God, as Redeemer, Emancipator, and Liberator? A notion of grace and mercy does, we must admit, attach itself to our idea of supreme authority; and in this respect it presents a sort of analogy and resemblance to the idea of the Godhead. Properly speaking, however, the exercise of grace and mercy forms an exception to the general rule of man’s sovereignty, and belongs to him only in his special function as administrator of justice. Moreover, the most paternal and beneficent of earthly rulers can at most provide only for the physical happiness of his people. He may alleviate or avert heavy calamities, or procure many temporal blessings and advantages for his subjects; but the unhappy soul can be helped by One alone. The distinction I have just made will become more apparent by means of a contrast. Wherever the clergy are not regarded merely as teachers of the people, but as is the case in the greater part of Western and of Eastern Christendom, as priests speaking with a divine authority, this their public vicegerency relates primarily and immediately to the _Redeemer_; its judicial functions over the conscience ought to shun a visible publicity, and to be left entirely to the conscience and guarded by its seal of secrecy. And in this respect lies the distinctive peculiarity of the relation subsisting between the supreme authority in the state and God, which, however, refers pre-eminently to His attribute of _justice_. And here it is no mere remote analogy and weak resemblance, dependent on the principle of human weakness and imperfection; but it is a true and real vicegerency, publicly admitted and recognized, and exercising consequently a great public influence. And therefore it is, that among the divers elements or branches of the supreme political authority (which, however, fundamentally and in its essence is one and indivisible), a special sanctity is, as I have already remarked, ascribed to its judicial functions. In a word, the earthly head of the state is the dispenser of the divine justice, the vicegerent of the Judge of the world; he is a divine functionary, and, so to say, the supreme judge in the world’s tribunal. And this is the point of view from which all matters and questions connected with this subject may most fully be answered and most correctly determined. But that this exalted dignity of the earthly ruler may not be interpreted too literally, I must here observe, that the divine Judge is one who allows mercy to take the place of justice, not merely occasionally, and by way of exception, but always and invariably; so long, at least, as it is in any way possible. And here comes in the application of the principle which we previously advanced:--That God is in nowise absolute, but that on the contrary His justice is in every case limited by His love and grace; while the latter again is restricted and modified by His justice, and both, indeed, reciprocally by each other. Whoever has formed in his heart the least vivid notion of God will not entertain the slightest doubt of this union of justice and of mercy in the divine essence.

When, however, we speak of kings being the dispensers of divine justice, we mean it in quite a different sense from that in which, during the great immigration of the northern hordes of Asia, the barbarian conqueror proclaimed himself the scourge of God. By assuming this title he merely meant to terrify his adversaries by the thought of having to encounter in himself a fearful and destructive power of evil, whom, in order to chastise a degenerate world, the Almighty had permitted to do as he pleased and to let loose his fury on the nations of the earth. And phenomena of this kind are not confined to the period of the great migration; for the true notion of the representation of the divine Judge of the world by the supreme power in the state combines together with the sternest severity of justice, which in this respect is both wholesome and necessary, the greatest clemency--for where is there, or can there be, a clemency greater than the divine? But most especially does this idea imply that which is here pre-eminently requisite, and insists with a prominence proportionate to its great importance on the strictest conscientiousness in the discharge of the duties of this vicegerency. But the superior excellence of this idea over many other explanations of a similar kind, but laboring under the defect of extreme vagueness, consists even in this, that it comprises and inseparably combines those two important conditions, both that the supreme governor is responsible to God alone, and, as following therefrom, that he is unquestionably responsible to Him, and that it also determines in what sense and in what way he is so.

Every great and remarkable event which marks an epoch in the political history of nations and the world, may, perhaps, be regarded as a dispensation of justice. If, then, such an event, however partial and confined to a single people or empire, or at most extending to an entire age, may be looked upon as a sign of judgment already commencing, or at least of a retribution threatening, but mercifully suspended, the same mode of consideration may, with as good reason, be applied to every resolution of the political world on the grave questions of peace and war: for the power of making war and peace is, at all events, the peculiar and characteristic prerogative of the supreme authority in the state. Now, the simplest standard, perhaps, of judging of the justice of either is, if we may so speak, to ask, Is the proclamation of war or the treaty of peace so entirely founded on truth, so perfectly correspondent to the righteous and judicial character of God, that man need not fear to lay them before the Judge of the whole world for His ratification? If such be the case, then most assuredly are they right and righteous, whatever be their consequences, or whatever be the judgment that men may pass upon them. But, otherwise, if the manifesto of war contain nothing but shallow and specious pretexts painfully raked together, or of fine-colorable phrases which even the eye of the world can see through, if a light touch of truth be only thrown over it in the hope of concealing the conqueror’s lust of aggrandizement, or the equally destructive principle of an old national feud or jealousy--if, in the pacification, under ambiguous terms and cunningly-devised phrases, the seeds of a future war be carefully sown, and thus the worst disease of the political world be propagated and multiplied from generation to generation, then most assuredly the guardian eye of Eternal Justice has not watched over its completion, and bestowed on it His blessing, but another and a very different coadjutor has had his hand in the game--the spirit of untruth, viz., and of corruption, of strife and ruin, whom no name so exactly describes as that of a “liar from the beginning.”

Now, as not only the annihilation of the race of giants in the universal deluge, with which our sacred history opens, and to which the ancient traditions of almost every people allude, more or less directly, but also the partial overthrow of a single nation, the tragical closing catastrophe of particular ages, is, as it were, a prelude of the final judgment of all nations and peoples of the earth at the end of time; so, on the other hand, the original corruption of the primal lie is propagated as an hereditary evil from millennium to millennium, and from century to century. For even now, may many a fertile spot, the seat of a happy and united community in the midst of prosperous times, and of peace unbroken at home or abroad, be considered, if not a garden of innocence, still the blissful dwelling of peace and quiet. But into these happy precincts the evil spirit of untruth and discontent ever and anon steals, to repeat over again in the history of the human race the same scene of temptation which marked its commencement. Upward and downward, and in a twofold direction, does the lying spirit of strife ply his seductive arts. Now, on the one side, he whispers in the ear of the rising generation, “That is the true knowledge and the real science which men are most anxious to withhold from you; but seek first of all to be free--shake off this unworthy spirit of slavish obedience, then shall all that is noble and intellectually great be at once yours. In this way, and thus only, was it attained by the great and good in ancient times.” But, on the other hand, he directs himself to the individual invested with authority; and if the potentate be unrighteous, his ear is already more than half open--and even if he be upright, still, as a man, he is not always inaccessible to such whisperings. “Why,” he insidiously asks, “dost thou draw back so fearfully before that which the people call their rights? These are nothing but childish notions which the school-boy may do well to declaim about, but practically they are worthless and unreal; no one means them seriously--the whole world puts no faith in this comedy. Rule your subjects with an iron hand, that is all they know how to respect; nay, they even admire the bold spirit that defies them, and they will suppliantly reverence thy greatness of mind and strength of character if, betraying no infirmness of purpose, you boldly and sternly encroach upon or disregard all their pretended rights and privileges. If only your sovereignty be solidly established from within, and well rounded from without, then, besides a great name with posterity, you will also secure to yourself the present enjoyment of very great and solid advantages.”

In this wise, from the original source of the one lie, is the inheritance of the old evil transmitted from generation to generation in the political world, in the two opposite forms of popular anarchy, and the despotic lust of power and aggrandizement. These two forms of evil are more closely allied than at the first look they appear to be in reality; but history, the great teacher of truth, gives its sure witness to their affinity. Nothing is more common in great republics, than for the discord of the citizens to be put an end to by some victorious general, whom all parties, weary of their dissensions, hail as the benefactor of the whole community. But how seldom is the pacificator content with the glorious title of the restorer of domestic peace, and does not go a step farther, and become the scheming tyrant and the aggressive conqueror. The whole history of the world is, in short, little more than the continuous struggle between the purifying fire of the divine retribution and this spirit of political lying, which is ever renewing itself in these twofold forms of anarchy and despotism.

Moreover, while we acknowledge the divine authority invested in the supreme ruler of the state, we must take heed how we mix up with our conceptions on this head the notion, so highly dangerous and so pregnant with fatal errors, of the absolute and unconditional, which, as we have already remarked, can not be applied even to the Godhead without giving rise to misconceptions. If, therefore, in any country a party--for now-a-days even justice is made a party matter--if any where a party of otherwise well-disposed men call themselves “absolutists,” such a designation is of itself sufficient to excite our apprehension, lest, with so absolute a way of thinking, some spark of evil be slumbering beneath the ashes; inasmuch as one absolute, _i.e._, one unconditional element of destruction invariably calls forth another.

Absolute, if this pernicious term must be used, the supreme power of the legitimate sovereign of a state may indeed be called in so far as he is responsible to God alone. For were the supreme ruler responsible to man, then the only difference would be, that instead of one, the many to whom he is answerable would be absolute. But in another sense, it is impossible to call the supreme power, wherever lodged, absolute or unlimited; for it is limited in many ways. Its exercise is checked and controlled by the treaties subsisting between it and other powers--by the laws which it finds in existence from the times of his predecessors, and which are still in force by the family laws of succession, and all matters pertaining to or connected therewith. If he who is invested with the highest power in the state, is determined to interfere with all these institutions, and violently to subvert existing customs and compacts, then is there, in such a case, no one really justified or entitled either to make objections to his measures or to oppose them. By such arbitrary and violent proceedings, however, he is himself undermining the very foundation of his own power. And a regard to and consideration of the possible consequences of such injustice will in most instances furnish the necessary and salutary check. Lastly, if we look a moment from the right itself to its actual exercise and influence, how often and how greatly are the latter limited by adverse circumstances and evil times. Nothing, in short, is more at issue with and opposed to nature and to life, than the very notion of unlimited power, and generally all that is absolute or destructive.

But there is yet another side on which the supreme political power is essentially checked and controlled. It is bound to consider and pay respect to the principles of religious society, which rests no less than itself on a divine authority. For the church, although very different in its nature, and flowing from a wholly different origin from that of the state, is, nevertheless, equally inviolable. If, however, the civil and political ruler, not content with a co-ordinate jurisdiction and the revision of ecclesiastical affairs--with a joint authority and influence, should attempt to make the religious polity also entirely subject to his own arbitrary will, no one perhaps will be able to oppose force to force, and probably no one would be justified in so doing. But by such an attempt, as indeed by every act of religious oppression, the supreme civil power would most fatally undermine the very basis of its own authority. If, for instance, the ruler of a great nation places the third estate in the painful alternative of making, what in any case must be most pernicious, a choice between divine and human authority--or, rather, to speak more correctly, between two claims to its allegiance equally divine, he does but smooth the road which must lead at last to his own ruin.

And here, too, in the spiritual community of the faith, in the same way as in the political body, man’s patrimony of original evil branches out into two directions. In the one it turns longingly back toward the past, and in the other it tends restlessly forward into the indefinite future. Both of these aberrations are wholly independent of the outer form as well as of the subject-matter of belief. They are consequently to be found in the old covenant, as the first grade of divine revelation, no less than in the second. The first of these hereditary faults of man’s nature is deadness, or, in a somewhat different phase, lukewarmness--manifesting itself outwardly in a close and literal adherence to the old in its mere external forms. In a word, it is spiritual death. For though in the abundance of His love, God may have made a revelation of His will to man, and even died to make an atonement for him, still it is left to the free will of the individual to receive it or not; and its retention and observance is the trial of his goodness, and, consequently, in this point, as in others, his hereditary and inborn spiritual death strongly manifests itself. The second of these hereditary faults, or, rather, the same in a different form, is the spirit of innovation, or a false semblance of life, by which, in fact, this inner death is merely propagated.

On both these faults and erroneous ways of thinking on religious matters, Revelation expresses itself equally in the tone of stern reprobation, though perhaps its language with regard to the former is even still more severe. As regards the spirit of innovation, all changes in this domain, which are merely human, and not visibly and manifestly of a divine spirit and origin, must simply on that account be opposed and condemned. Now, in both the parties into which the faith is unhappily divided, there are many who are captivated and led away by this spirit of change. For among those who were originally seduced by it not a few are now animated with a sincere and profound respect for whatever is old and sterling, while of the innovation-mongers of our days, many are to be found in the ranks of those who originally strove to stem the tide of alteration and change. Oh that all who are pervaded by this evil spirit, and are ever casting their views forward into the future, would only advance a little farther still in their thoughts, so as to take in the end and conclusion of all. In the knowledge of the final judgment of the world (and what is this philosophy of revelation but such a reminiscence of death and the end--in which light philosophy was even in olden times explained--not, indeed, in a narrow-minded limitation to ourselves, but in a far wider sense, embracing in its universal sympathy the final catastrophe of the whole human race), in the warnings and allusions to this last day of account, so long and so often given, men will find all the information that they seek, and will no longer need any human innovations, since by this key all that is old and eternal shall receive a trebly-exalted significance and a doubly-new life.

But besides the political body and the religious community, the world of letters forms a third society. Though numerically smaller, yet in its effects on the minds of men, whether it moves freely and diffuses itself without the rigid restraints of form, or is narrowly confined to the formalism of the school, it is, perhaps, as great as either. Spiritual in its matter and in its dissemination, it either renounces a divine sanction, and stands under the protection and supervision of the state--such, at least, is the predominant relation in recent times--or, as was formerly the case, it grows and flourishes beneath the shelter and through the fostering care of ecclesiastical institutions. Holding an intermediate place between the two other bodies of human society--in its subject-matter more akin to the one, but deriving from the other its external support--it is also of a mixed nature and partakes of both. But the inborn and original sin of science is exactly similar to that which infects political life. Manifesting itself in a twofold aberration, it either assumes, in the spirit of anarchy, an hostile position toward all that exists from without, or is given to men from above, or, perhaps, comes forward in a predominant love of system or scientific sectarianism, which not unfrequently is as fanatical as the political party-spirit with which, moreover, it is often very nearly and closely allied.

The nature of the divine order which rules the history of the world, and its stern, retributive law, must, in all essential points, be now apparent from the preceding remarks. It is an all-pervading alternation between the purifying fire of God’s punitive justice and the inheritance of the old evil, which breaks out, now in anarchy, now in despotism--at one time in spiritual deadness and lukewarmness of faith--at another in the pernicious lust of innovation and change. This purifying fire, it must also be clear, while, confining its immediate operation to single nations or to marked and distinct epochs of history, it gives them a new shape and form, invariably gains for itself a wider extension, so as, at last, to embrace the whole world. Moreover, every one must feel that, in investigating the fiery track of this judging spirit in its stern course through centuries, we must reverently follow at a respectful distance to learn from it what it is and how it manifests itself, and take good heed how we presume to confine it within any narrow law, or reduce it to any precise and rigorous definition. We can not be too carefully on our guard against ascribing to Providence in its guidance of mankind many and subtile designs, which, after all, perhaps, are nothing but the mere fancies and conceits of man. In general, however, it may safely be said that the subordinate views and higher ends which are visible in the leading catastrophes of nations and empires, or even of entire ages, have especial reference to that gradation in the divine revelation which I explained to you in the previous Lecture as having a regard to, and comprising the whole human race in, its comprehensive design. By way of exemplification, and as an instance of the right application of the ideas here advanced, I will now, in conclusion, add a few words on those events and catastrophes of universal history, which, in this respect, seem the most important.