SCHLEIERMACHER.*

TO THE EDITOR OF THE HOMILIST.

SIR,-You will sympathize with me, I am sure, when I tell you that I find a great difficulty in understanding some philosophical works of a theological character, which are highly recommended by many of our literary savans. I am very much concerned to make myself master of any work professing to enter into the real essence of theology, as I am about commencing a course of usefulness in an important sphere by pulpit ministrations. I feel that I am bound to cultivate my powers in such a manner as to remove, to the extent of my capacity and opportunity, the charge which is often made against the pulpit of the present day, that it is behind the press, the platform, the bar, and the senate, in terseness and force of language, in individual earnestness and enthusiasm, requisite to the carrying into effect the practical business of religion. I can scarcely say that the charge is altogether unfounded. There is an ascetic notion widely prevalent that the solemnity and importance of religion. require a calm coldness of manner in its public advocate. In nothing else but in religion would mankind suffer such weak, vapid declamation in a monotonous rehearsal of mere technical phraseologies. A solemn statue would answer the same purpose. This is not only endured, but demanded, by audience strained to unmeaning genuflexions, and to a studied vacant gaze upon the innocent, inoffensive pulpit official. Under such circumstances, it is no wonder that an earnest enthusiasm is denounced as obtrusive, and devoid of the gravity of cold wisdom; it is too real, individual, and earnest, for the artistic devotion of our modern congregations. All this is tenaciously defended as indispensable to what is called

* "Brief Outline of the Study of Theology," by Dr. Schleiermacher.

the dignity and respectability of religion; and yet we hear nothing more frequent than the wail of churches, in view of the manifest inefficiency of modern sermonizing, either for congregational attraction, or for individual conversions. Innumerable are the circumstantial expedients of the pastorate to render the inane and vapid effusions of the pulpit at all endurable. Who would read popular sermons to get ideas? Who, as a general rule, would fatigue his eyes in running over continents of words to get rich, suggestive, thinking? There are, it is true, discourses whose authors are independent thinkers, and who soar above the fear of petty critics who have gained their importance by means of the privileged obscurity of reviews.

Looking at this state of things, I hail, in any production, the appearance of fresh thought and vigorous expression. I love individual freedom of thinking. It brings out human nature in its native variety. It is life as contrasted with the dead uniformity of conventional habits, and the novelty of it generates the spirit of forgiveness towards many erratic gyrations even in theological sentiment.

German theology seems to be the very desideratum of the age if a novel mode of thinking and speaking is what we want. To Germanise our ideas might lead to vigorous thinking, on the same principle that crossing the species and the soil promotes a vigorous fruitfulness in the physical world.

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Schleiermacher's theology is so strange that it seems to be the very thing for a person in my position. It is so different from the technical theologies of the sixteenth century that one feels as if he breathed in a new atmosphere, after passing through the wilderness of " covenants," doctrines," uses," "applications," "inferences," " conclusions," &c., of the old school. I do not forget that thought is thought, let it be ancient or modern, dressed up in the technics of orthodoxy or in some newly-coined terminology. The same is the fact with regard to truth. A novel mode of expression has no more truth in it, necessarily, than an old one.

This latter thought has been suggested to my mind strongly in reading Schleiermacher's theology. I take the rule given by him, and others of the German school, to test everything by my own "subjectivity;" and if my inner eye is my best criterion, independent of what is called "objective" argument, then I fear that after all the freshness which is, apparently, in Schleiermacher's mode of expression, I must conclude it is only the novelty of a thick fog of words covering a very barren field of common-place thought. If the teaching of one's own subjectivity-the mere instinct of a man's thought-be the best guide into truth, then I claim the superiority of my own to me above all others. And I really do evolve my "subjectivity" when I say, that the theology of Schleiermacher. may be characterized by the illustration of a young woman, who went into a shop and asked for " a semi-perforated truncated cone, convex at the top," but was obliged to use the more familiar name of " a thimble" before the unlearned shopkeeper could know what she meant.

The great names attached to the work form an objective presumption in its favor-Dr. Frederick Lucke, and William Farrar, LL.B. It is also dedicated to one whose name I write with reverence, J. P. Smith, D.D., LL. D., F.R.S.

I give you a specimen of the fog of this work :

"A positive science is, in general, a body of scientific elements, which have a connectedness of their own; not as if, by a necessity-arising out of the very idea of science-they formed a constituent part of the scientific organization, but only so far as they are requisite in order to the solution of a practical problem. If, on the other hand, a rational theology has, in past times, been exhibited as an essential part of the scientific organization, it is true that this also has reference to the God of our God-consciousness; yet, being a speculative science, it is altogether a different thing from the theology with which we have to do."

Can any one be sure what is the real meaning of the author in the above paragraph? Does it not appear that any thought may be applied to the words? Or does it not appear, rather,

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that a rational thought could never suit such words? I will pose that the first part of the quotation-extending to the word problem”—means, that not only are the elements of a science connected with one another, but that, in any one science, there are certain specific elements arising out of the nature of the thing necessary to solve any practical problem in that science; -the problems of astronomy, for instance. If so, can any one see how the latter part of the paragraph contains anything, on "the other hand," to this? How could a "rational theology," at any time, form an essential part of the "scientific organization" if theology is a science, as he says it is? What can be that scientific organization which has, in past "times," included "rational theology?" Is the meaning this-that the science of theology includes the science of theology? What is the antecedent of "the scientific organization?" Is there a scientific theology which is not "speculative?" Does he mean, by theology, a church organization, or an organized church, in its relationship to God? One would suppose that this was his meaning, by consulting other parts of the work. Then, why did he not say that he was going to change the meaning of the term theology as it is commonly used, instead of introducing it as merely "a theology with which we have to do?" He should have given us a new vocabulary. Any man who gives his own peculiar meaning to any term, does more to mystify thought than by introducing a new term from a foreign tongue.

Your limits and my patience will scarcely allow the introduction of more quotations in this epistle. Any one who wishes to have the pleasure of viewing specimens such as I have given, may see them in abundance by dipping into the work in question. Yours, &c.,

P.

WELLINGTON AND THE PULPIT.*

THE pulpit, as exhibited in connexion with the death of the Hero of Waterloo, has awakened in many minds a conviction that it is sadly deficient in spiritual insight, purpose, and power. We have read a good many of its published effusions on the "grand occasion," and the only ones we consider worthy of notice are those we have placed at the foot of this page. It is not our intention to remark on any particular sermon, either in the way of censure or commendation, but faithfully to give the impression which the whole has made on our minds in relation to the pulpit; and then, according to the measure of our space, submit an extract from each of the discourses we have undertaken to notice, and thus enable each author to speak for himself.

The Wellington Sermons have impressed us with the fact that the English pulpit is not up to the true Christian ideal; that it is rather a conventional than a New Testament organ; that its utterances are more the echoes of the notions that float on the surface of British society, than the living expressions of that broad heart-searching and philosophic morality which is the essence of Christianity, and which is compendiously embodied in the Divine Sermon on the Mount. Taking the average sermonic literature of the subject in hand as our guide, we should unhesitatingly pronounce the British pulpit to be deficient in two important things:

First, in mental independency. The moral sentiments of the discourses, for the most part, are identical with those which occupied every department of the worldly press before they were preached. Abstract those pietizings, spiritualizings, and biblical quotations, which people are wont to look for in

1. "Wellington," &c., by T. Binney; 2. "Wellington and War,” by Newman Hall, B.A.; 3. "The Life of Wellington: its Lessons to Young Men," by Rev. W. Forster; 4. "Duty and Destiny," by G. W. Conder; 5. “Diversities of Glory," by George Palmer Davies, B.A.