should dare to rush into the Holy of Holies, and profane the Sanctuary with its bold doubts and rude questionings. It was the scholastic mind alone which could draw a line between theological and philosophic truth; or, with Thomas Aquinas, so balance the conclusions of logic and the dogmas of faith as that they should seem to be, if not identical, at least consistent with each other. We observe, therefore, as the natural consequence of this, growing up within the Church, side by side with the rationalism of the schools a spirit of mysticism which abjured logic altogether. It is, however, worthy of remark, in passing, that this mysticism, opposed as it was to the scholastic philosophy, was no less opposed to the hierarchical spirit of the Church, and in its later developments became opposed also to the theology of the Church. We shall see hereafter, in looking at the history of mysticism in Germany, that it became one of the direct agencies of the Reformation.

Mysticism may be called the religion of the heart, Scholasticism being that of the head-the one looked to Reason as its guide, the other to the emotional nature of man. It suggests no small measure of depravity on the part of the "Church of the Dark Ages," that both the heart and the head, the Reason and the emotional nature, of the better part of its members revolted from it. In fact, long before there was any thought of a Reformation such as afterwards came, we find in the writings both of Schoolmen and of Mystics teachings and doctrines utterly opposed in spirit to that which the Church taught as Christianity. Protestantism existed within the bosom of the Church long before a Luther came to give it a voice to be heard through the length and breadth of Christendom; and this spirit took upon itself the form of rationalism or mysticism according as the protest proceeded from the head or the heart. In tracing out the sources of the Reformation, it must never be forgotten that they are found no less in the doubt existing within the Church, than in the opposition from without. The latter was the first, however, of which the Church took cognisance, and it will, therefore, be with this that we shall be occupied in the immediately succeeding papers.

The war between the rationalism of the schools, and the mysticism which found no spiritual sustenance in the orthodox theology, on the one hand, and that theology itself, on the other, has never been sufficiently insisted on either as a reformative agency, or as forming a tragical ingredient in the spiritual history of the centuries preceding the time of the Reformation. The only historian who notices the growth of the spirit of doubt which arose out of this, among the orthodox sons of the Church, is Michelet; and he very properly calls attention to the fact that it is to be looked upon as a tragic element in the history of those centuries. No other historian has entered so thoroughly into the spirit of those times, and we quote his words with pleasure, not less for their eloquence than for their truth:-" The thirteenth century has its Passion," (so he writes) "a Passion of acute, profound, penetrating character, hardly dreamed of by previous ages. I allude to the "first agony with which nascent doubt convulsed souls; when the whole harmony of the middle ages was troubled; when the great edifice in which men were settled began to shake; when saints clamouring against saints, 'right setting itself up against right-the most docile minds found them"selves compelled to sit in self-judgment and examination. But

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"the bitterness of this first falling off in faith was, that men shrank from "avowing it. At this day we are inured to the torments of doubt; the 'points are blunted. But let us carry ourselves back to the first moment in "which the soul still living, and warm with faith and love, felt the cold iron

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"enter. The pain was harrowing, but it was exceeded by the horror and "surprise."* Yes! in truth, if we consider it well, there is much that is tragic in the ages of doubt and growing distrust which close up the history of the "Church of the Dark Ages." They who remember how in simple boyhood's time they listened, with a deep feeling of love and reverence, to the church bells as they ushered in the "Day of Rest"; how the solemn tones of the grey-headed minister, as he read the words then believed to be the very words of God, created a deep awe within the soul; and how the old church itself was a sacred place to them--they know full well that those years in which one by one the illusions of the early time gave way before growing doubts of their reality and truth, were not happy years. The history of the world, like that of individuals, is full of such tragedies; let Priestcraft bear the blame!

JAS. L. GOODING.

LIFE AND DOCTRINES OF KHOUNG-FOU-TSZE

(CONFUCIUS).

§ 7.-INCIDENTS IN HIS CAREER.

CONFUCIUS had many enemies, and exactly in proportion to the increasing fidelity and devotion of his disciples was the hatred of those who were disgraced by his uprightness. He had abandoned the office he held because, as before stated, they who were the personal advisers of the monarch were corrupt and unjust men. But, as in the case of Sir Thomas More, there was all the greater desire to gain, if not his hearty, then at least his seeming approval of the existing condition of things. The usurping minister, Yanghoo, was galled by the course the philosopher was pursuing, and devised a subtle scheme for entrapping him and subjecting him to punishment. He prepared a sumptuous sacrifice in honour of ancestors; and it being the custom to distribute the offerings, after the ceremony, amongst the most devoted and most favoured grandees, who could not refuse a gift which was esteemed sacred, Confucius was included in the list. The philosopher, desirous of holding no intercourse with the man, yet equally scrupulous in what concerned ceremonies and the rules of good manners, was a little embarrassed. If he declined the present, he offered an affront to the sender, and violated the ritual; if he accepted it, he not only allowed himself to be considered one of the usurper's partizans, but would be constrained to pay him a visit of thanks, which he was most anxious to avoid. He at length decided to accept the present, and, with a species of artifice, somewhat at variance with his customary candour, to pay his visit of thanks when he knew the minister was from home. Accident, however, defeated the latter scheme; he met Yang-hoo without the city, and the latter, addressing the philosopher, graciously invited him to his house, observing, in an insinuating tone, that, if his own occupations permitted, he would be the most zealous of his disciples. "Ought a man like you,' he continued, “who is "in possession of the most invaluable treasure, namely, wisdom, to bury it ? " Confucius modestly replied, "The man who indeed possesses such a treasure "does wrong to bury it; he ought to let all partake of it who can." "And "he who holds the torch of science," continued Yang-hoo, "should he "suffer it to expire in his hands? Ought he not to employ it in illuminating

* Hist, France, B. iv, c. 9.

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"those who are in the gloom of ignorance? "An enlightened man," Confucius gravely answered, "should try to enlighten others." “ Nay, "then," resumed the minister, "you are self-condemned. You are stored "with wisdom, and able to instruct these who direct the helm of government, "yet you deny them your aid. Is this the conduct of a man who has the "good of the people at heart?" "Every one who loves the public weal, rejoined Confucius, "ought to show it by his conduct." By these and other ambiguous answers, the philosopher, with calm dignity and perfect courtesy, parried the crafty questions of a bad man, who, he knew, was studying his ruin.* Still it had been far more pleasing to the European reader to find that he had been a little plainer spoken. Jesus parried the questions of the Pharisees, and is praised for his skill in doing so, but we confess it would have satisfied us better had he answered without evasion, as his heart prompted him.

"This

In the year 507, B.C., in order to learn the number of his followers, and to render them the assistance they needed, the philosopher resolved to pay a visit to some neighbouring states. Among others, he visited Tse, the king of which created him one of his ministers, and immediately he set to work to effect reforms, which struck terror to the heart of the "Chief of the Cabinet." As it is now so it was in the beginning with those who are trained to fill such offices. They must do all according to their rules, and he who allows common sense to be his guide is esteemed a most dangerous man. The minister poured his sorrows into the ears of the king, and we who read his speech can fancy it to be spoken by a well-known modern statesman. "foreigner," said he, "is introducing innovations which will infallibly over"turn your throne. He wishes to make mankind different from what they are "and must be. He is an impracticable theorist, and your subjects, habituated to "customs which he is about to alter, will be incited to insurrection. Your ease "will be invaded by the toils he will impose upon you, as well as by the murmors of your people; and you will find, too late, that the votaries of "wisdom and virtue do not always regulate their own conduct by the rules "they profess. Let this philosopher, if he will, give instructions to those who voluntarily seek information respecting history, music, rites, and the "classics; but do not countenance his dangerous changes, and arm him with "power to enforce them, by appointing him your minister." The argument was successful, and the reforming minister was "dismissed with thanks," but so coldly given that they sounded more like rebuke.

He returned home and again busied himself with his disciples. The following anecdote will illustrate how he occasionally taught them. Amongst the few ancient ceremonies still observed, w that of offering sacrifices on mountains. With this intention, he ascended Nung-shan, attended by three disciples, Tsze-loo, Tsze-kung, and Yan-hwuy. After he finished the ceremony, he cast his eyes around from the summit of the hill, sighed deeply, and descended in silence, and with an aspect of grief. His companions inquired the reason of this sorrow; Confucius replied, that he could not forbear thinking of the condition of the surrounding nations, and deploring their disordered state and mutual animosities. "This it is," he added, "which has afflicted me. Can either of you conceive a remedy for the 'present, and how to prevent future ills? Tsze-loo, who had received a military education, replied that, in his opinion, the disorders might be cured if a strong army were placed under his command, with which he would attack

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* Asiatic Jour. New Series, vol. i, p. 25.

evil-doers without mercy, cut off the heads of the most guilty, and expose them as an example to the rest; after this victory, he would employ his two colleagues in enforcing order, the observance of the laws, and the restoration of ancient usages. "You are a brave man," said Confucius. Tsze-kung said he would proceed in another manner. At the critical moment, when the armies of two kingdoms were about to engage, he would rush between them, clad in a mourning habit, and, in a pathetic appeal to them, set forth the horrors of war, the blessings of peace, the delights of the domestic circle, the obligations due to society, and the woes entailed upon it by ambition, licentiousness, and indulgence of the passions; "touched by this address,' said he. "they would drop their arms, and return in harmony to their respective homes, when I would employ Tsze-loo in regulating military, and Yan"hwuy civil concerns; the one would restore order, the other maintain it." "You are an eloquent man," observed the philosopher. Yan-hwuy was silent, nor, until the master had insisted upon hearing his opinion, did he modestly say, that he wished for nothing more than humbly to co-operate with a virtuous and enlightened monarch, in banishing vice and flat 'ery, encouraging sincerity and virtue, instructing the people, and ameliora ting their condition. "When all fulfilled their duties," he observed, "there "would be no need of warriors to compel, nor rhetoricians to persuade men 'to virtue; so that the valour of Tsze-loo and the eloquence of Tsze-kung "would be equally superfluous." "You are a wise man," said Confucius. "But which is the preferable scheme?" asked the impatient Tsze-loo. "what has been suggested by Yan-hwuy," replied the philosopher coolly, "could be accomplished, mankind would retrieve and perpetuate their happi"ness, without loss of blood, expenditure of property, or waste of time in "elaborate discourses."

"If

There was a touch of satire in this hardly to be expected from the Sage; but the gist of the advice he approved was noble. Carlyle is constantly harping upon the themes, that he is the best and most efficient "reformer, who applies himself to the task of reforming himself," and that banishing vice and flattery, coupled with encouraging sincerity and virtue, will do more for us as a nation than can ever be done either by monster guns or ships large enough to bridge the Channel. There are plenty who carp at his doctrines, but what man can deny his premises? Bloodshed and eloquence are attractive, and the world has honoured them to the utmost stretch of its power; yet, after all, there are reasons for believing it would be better to fall back upon the principles enunciated by Confucius. If the hour ever come when fustian is not considered disgraceful, and broadcloth is not accepted as proof of virtue, there will be reason for believing that the end of evil draweth nigh.

It was his practice, in this manner, to make his disciples and pupils think for themselves, and discover the truth by their own efforts, rather than lean upon his authority. "I teach you nothing," he often repeated, "but what 'you might learn yourselves, if you made a proper use of your faculties. What can be more simple and natural than the principles of that moral code, the maxims of which I inculcate? All I tell you, our ancient sages "have practised before us, in the remotest times, namely, the observance of the three fundamental laws of relation, between sovereign and subject, "father and child, husband and wife; and the five capital virtues; namely, “universal charity, impartial justice, conformity to ceremonies and established usages, rectitude of heart and mind, and pure sincerity." P. W. P.

DID THE PARENTS OF JESUS BELIEVE IN THE

INCARNATION?

(Concluded from p. 92.)

In addition to this, however, it is quite as serious an objection to the idea that the parents of Jesus believed in his Divine nature, that they put him to learn the trade of his father. There is nothing derogatory to the honour of a man in labour, for it is the badge of independence and the sign of manhood. But in judging this matter, we cannot overlook the fact that when the supernatural operates upon man, he is compelled to move out of his ordinary path. It may be possible for us to employ the highest man to perform the lowest offices, but it would be exceedingly difficult. It might be within our power to set Cromwell to cleanse a sewer, Shakspere to drive a team, and Carlyle to attend a dustcart, if we did not know who and what they are; but knowing one to be the great patriot soldier, the second to be the great dramatist, and the third to be the greatest moral teacher of his age, we should find it exceedingly difficult to employ them in such low offices; not, however, because of feeling that there is anything disgraceful in those forms of labour, but simply because of our consciousness that the men are by nature qualified and intended for much higher work.

We read in old books of history, of King Alfred having been employed by the farmer's wife to attend to the baking of some cakes then on the stove. Instead of doing so he left them to burn, whereat she was very wroth; but when informed who he was, her anger passed away, for then she felt that although there was nothing dishonourable in attending to the cakes, he was unfitted for the task, because of being employed in thinking of higher matters. This is not cited as a positive historical truth, for it is nothing of the kind, but it contains a subjective truth. They who are conscious of the higher qualifications, cannot bring themselves to furnish lower employment. And if this be so in relation to the human, how much more powerfully will it operate in relation to the Divine! Imagine even that the spirit of one we knew in our childhood could come back to earth to inhabit a human frame, and we were acquainted with the fact, is it possible we could employ that ghostly personage to paint our houses or print our books? Is it not certain that our awe of the supernatural would exert such authority over us as to prevent our setting them such a task? Go, then, a step farther, and imagine the Divine Being incarnate in human form. Say that He who rules the Universe were embodied in a human form, and that we were fully conscious of the fact; say we had obtained our information through the interposition of some superior intelligence-an angel having appeared and taught us this wonderful truth, so that we knew the matter to be as he had said, quite as clearly as Mary must have known of Jesus-and that Divine Being either comes to our door to ask for employment, or in some other way places us in the position of being able to employ Him in some menial office-Could we do so? Let every man answer the question for himself. We have no doubt that, duly considered, everyone would say, No, for the feeling of awe would prevent it. And in like manner it would have operated with the parents of Jesus. Had they believed in the story of the Incarnation as it is now believed, they would have been incapable of employing or treating him as other children were treated. All the miracles recorded in the Gospels fall short of the greatness of that one which was performed when they put Jesus at the bench