and some other literary problems. In his work on the Old Testament he disclaims at the outset the idea of the Pentateuch in its present form being a work of Moses; and recognises in this and several other of the historical books of the Old Testament the work of later compilers. Certain persons, he tells us, acted as public scribes, who, exercising at the same time the office of preachers and prophets, were appointed to commit to writing matters generally relating to religion and politics, as well as their own popular addresses; these materials were from time to time sifted or remodelled, until, after the exile, the residuary matter was reduced to the form in which we have it in the Old Testament.

But Simon's general object is to support tradition, and to maintain the authenticity of the apostolic writings; as a true Catholic, he could not go beyond the limits of testimony in order to engage in that higher criticism, which, acting on the true Protestant principle of free enquiry and self-reliance, must often proceed to question the validity of tradition itself. Spinoza's criticism, though less copious in learned detail, is absolutely free, and on that account as well as others far more interesting philosophically. It forms a summary anticipation of all the successive victories gained over prejudice and intolerance in so many various directions during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and leads the way not only in negative but positive results. Its general aim is similar to that of the deists; the elimination of form and fanciful imagery, and extracting the true Scripture essence or "Word of God" by aid of the moral intuitions. Its first task is to dissipate the false notion as to "prophecy" or inspiration; to divest it of its imposing haze by tracing its psychological origin, and then shewing that after discarding the conventional imagery addressed to vulgar minds, nothing remains except a popularly impressive representation of those elementary moral truths, which may be attained, and

better attained, by the rational intellect in another way. Then Spinoza proceeds to insist on the necessity of a faithful Bible history, in the form of a detailed analysis of the several books, the circumstances of the authors, the date and occasion of the composition, etc., in order to form a basis for sound interpretation; and while admitting his own inability adequately to supply this want, caused by the neglect or malice of the ancients, he points out so clearly the marks of later origin in the Pentateuch and other historical books, exposes their errors of omission and commission, especially the anachronismis, so convincingly, that no one unprepared to concede a divine authority to the Jewish constructors of the Canon, could remain entirely blind to their real character. And not only did Spinoza set the example of carefully studying the external history of the Bible, of separating essence from form, and indeed of all the various expedients successively adopted in order to bring its contents by means of quantitative and qualitative modification into harmony with modern convictions; we shall hereafter have occasion to notice that he also led the way in shewing how the whole of the documents, including the local, temporary, and other matter which ordinary deism threw aside as irrelevant or unmeaning, may be philosophically construed as illustrating the psychological conditions of their literary origin, in the same way as in other human records. His general views passed to the English and French deists, and indeed suggested the above-mentioned hypothesis of Simon as to the origin of the historical books of the Old Testament; but they were ill understood and remained comparatively unfruitful until the following century, when Astruc, Vater, Eichhorn, and Gesenius contributed to dissipate the last mists of that prejudice which made the idea of historical growth and development seem, in the eyes of Protestants, as inapplicable to the Bible, as in those of Catholics it had always appeared to the church.

Increase of Learning.

Spinoza's Biblical criticism, like his philosophy in general, is not to be treated as an entirely satisfactory execution of the proposed task, so much as an uncompromising assertion of that freedom which is its primary and most essential condition. And this leads to the notice of a second indispensable requisite for its adequate accomplishment, namely knowledge. Even among those most emancipated from prejudice, criticism was impeded by insufficient knowledge of the facts, and too implicit a reliance on common feeling or uninstructed judgment. Thus in the very infancy of the canon, Origen and Dionysius of Alexandria disputed the apostolical origin of the Apocalypse on grounds partly indeed critical, but chiefly from uncritical dislike or personal antipathy to its doctrines. When indeed Dionysius attempted to shew from the differences as to style and character distinguishing the book in question from the fourth Gospel,—that it could not have the same author, his reasoning was undoubtedly critical; but the rejection was mainly based on the dislike of chiliasm entertained by the objectors, and by the variance of the opinions advocated from their own. So too when Luther first turned round upon the church, and felt nerved by the mere internal force of religious conviction to deal freely even with parts of the New Testament, his elections and rejections were critically valueless, because founded on mere subjective preference and arbitrary feeling. The forced exegesis of the Socinians was a result of their unsatisfactory hesitation between Scripture-reliance and self-reliance, arbitrarily making Scripture into a reflection of their own views of doctrine; and deistic criticism consisted for the most part only of the first hurried negations of uninstructed common sense. And there was little difference in this respect between Supernaturalists and Deists: the one discarded revelation

on grounds very similar to those on which the others retained it; one holding the so-called "vital" portions of the Bible as reflecting their own intuitive feelings of religion; while the others retained the assumed quintessence on the ground of its being inspired. The century intervening between Spinoza and Semler was a period of transition, during which criticism gradually emerged from superficiality and subjectivity. The self-reliance gained in different ways, either through reason or feeling, and manifested in pietism and deism, required above all things to be educated, in order to deal with the obscure questions of literary history; the position of free thought had to be fenced, cleared, and cultivated; greater learning was required to refute the false learning and one-sided "Evidences" of interested apologists. These healthier influences came, be it recollected, not from churches, but from external sources. Thus when Toland made the facility of literary forgery in recent times, as evinced in the case of "Icon Basilike," a means of accounting for similar abuses in early Christian literature, he had first to prove the fact of such abuses by furnishing his adversary Blackhall with a detailed list of spurious Acts, Epistles, Gospels, and Apocalypses, falsely attributed to Christ or the Apostles, of whose existence the theologians of the day admitted their entire ignorance. Indeed the holy ignorance of churchmen is proverbial. Tertullian's well known disclaimer of Athens, and Gregory's of the Latin grammar, anticipated only too exactly the barbarous disinclination for learning so generally prevalent subsequently. Charlemagne was startled at discovering the wide-spread incompetency of the clergy, when even the Episcopal chiefs of Christendom were unable to write their names. "Christianity," says John Paul Richter, "was a day of doom to the graces and adornments of human life, and made the grave of literature a step to the gate of heaven." It has been said that the church helped to preserve what Chris

tianity tends to destroy, and that in the complex providential arrangements of good and ill the very corruptions of Rome, its centralisation, liturgies, and monasteries, were instrumental in preserving the Latin language. Doubtless religion, the earliest civiliser, is also the last mental stay of a sinking age; but church learning was a technical tradition comparatively valueless in itself, and generally inaccessible to the laity; it was rare and exceptional even among the clergy.1 "The bishops," says a mediæval poet, "are men honoured and appointed by God to promote obedience to his laws. But how do they execute their trust? They are incapable of preaching themselves, and they discourage those who can. Would you know why? It is that they want their priests to be as ignorant as themselves; an absurdity unparalleled by the blind, who are at least wise enough to choose some one who can see to lead them."2

Polite literature, the literature of "humanity," (litteræ humaniores) had no substantive interest for the schools, where it was resorted to only to furnish its quota to theology. Art and literature revived only when ascetical religion declined. In her true character the Church could not brook any authority but her own, or admit the value of a treasure of which she did not hold the keys. The present Bishop of Oxford is fond of reminding literary men and artists at convivial meetings 3 that the revival of art and literature was especially the work of the church. But this is true only of the church already secularised, of the half-heathen church of Borgia, of Julius, and of Leo. Literature revived not by the aid, but against the opposition, of monkish Christendom. Petrarch was an especial foe of the "dialectici" or school

1 Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. iii., p. 332. 82-84.

Gieseler's K. G., vol. ii., 1,

2 See Gervinus, History of German poetry, vol. i. p. 438.

3 See account of the dinner of the Royal Literary Fund, May 22, 1855.