John William Burgon · 13 of 36

VII. Examination of the Contribution of Rev. Professor Jowett, M.A. · Part 4

“In the same way, he who would understand the nature of Prophecy in the Old Testament, should have the courage to examine how far its details were minutely fulfilled. The absence of such a fulfilment may further lead him to discover that he took the letter for the spirit in expecting it.” (p. 347.) But really this is again simply to beg the whole question. Unbecoming in any writer, how absurd also is such a sentence from the pen of one who, (as we have lately seen,) no sooner descends to particulars than he makes himself ridiculous by betraying his own excessive ignorance. . . . “The letter for the spirit,” also! which is one of the ‘cant’ expressions of Mr. Jowett and his accomplices in ‘free handling,’—based evidently on a misconception of the meaning of 2 Cor. iii. 6. The contrast recurs at pp. 36, 357, 375, 425, &c., &c.

(β) Still bent on shewing that Inspiration does not secure Scripture from blots and blemishes, Mr. Jowett proceeds as follows. (I must present him to the reader, for a short space, in extenso; since by no other expedient can the complicated fallacies of his very intricate and perverse method be exposed.)

“Inspiration is a fact which we infer from the study of Scripture,—not of one portion only, but of the whole.” (p. 347.) (Now even this is not a correct way of stating the case. Still, because the words may bear an honourable sense, we pass on.)—“Obviously then, it embraces writings of very different kinds,—the book of Esther, for example, or the Song of Solomon, as well as the Gospel of St. John.” (That the volume of Inspiration is of this complex character, and that it embraces writings so diverse, is beyond dispute.)—“It is reconcileable with the mixed good and evil of the characters of the Old Testament, which. nevertheless does not exclude them from the favour of God.” (Why the Inspiration of a writer should not be ‘reconcileable’ with any amount of wickedness in the persons about whom he writes,—I am quite at a loss to perceive. Neither do I see why “the mixed good and evil” of certain “characters of the Old Testament,” (or of the New either,) should “exclude them from the favour of God.” What else becomes of your hope, and mine, of Eternal Life?)—“Inspiration is also reconcileable,” (he proceeds,)—“ with the attribution to the Divine Being of actions at variance with that higher revelation which He has given of Himself in the Gospel.” (Is this meant as an insult to “the Divine Being?” or simply as a slur on Revelation? Either way, we reject the charge with indignation.)—“It is not inconsistent with imperfect or opposite aspects of the Truth, as in the Book of Job or Ecclesiastes:” (Nothing which comes from God should be called “imperfect:” but why different aspects of the Truth should not be brought out, by different writers, as by St. Paul and by James,—it is hard to see.)—“With variations of fact in the Gospels, or the Books of Kings and Chronicles:” (We do not admit that Inspiration is consistent with “variations of fact;” but with different versions of the same incident, it is confessedly compatible.)—“With inaccuracies of language in the Epistles of St. Paul.” (With grammatical inelegancies, no doubt; but not with logical inaccuracies.)—“For these are all found in Scripture:” (This statement, by the way, should have been substantiated by at least as many references as there are heads in the indictment,)—“neither is there any reason why they should not be; except a general impression that Scripture ought to have been written in a way different from what it has.” (Just as if Mankind for 1800 years had been the victims of an à priori conception as to how Holy Scripture ought to have been written!)—“A principle of progressive revelation admits them all; and this is already contained in the words of our Saviour, ‘Moses because of the hardness of your hearts;’ or even in the Old Testament, ‘Henceforth there shall be no more this proverb in the house of Israel?’ “(O if Catholic writers were to expound Holy Scripture with the license of these gentlemen! . . . . That the scheme of Revelation has been progressive, is a Theological truism. What that has to do with the question in hand, I see not.)—“For what is progressive is necessarily imperfect in its earlier stages:” (“Imperfect” in what sense?)—“and even erring to those who come after.” (No, not in that sense imperfect, certainly!), . . . “There is no more reason why imperfect narratives should be excluded from Scripture than imperfect grammar; no more ground for expecting that the New Testament would be logical or Aristotelian in form, than that it would be written in Attic Greek.” (Now why this cloudy shuffling about “imperfect narratives,”—instead of saying what you mean, like a man! Further,—Is Mr. Jowett so weak as not to perceive that there is no force whatever in his supposed parallel? The Discourses of the Incarnate Son, for instance, are certainly anything but “Aristotelian in form.” His dialect,—(Angels bowed to catch it, I nothing doubt!)—was that of the despised Galilee. But need the teaching it conveyed have therefore been “imperfect?” Why may not the least perfect Greek be the vehicle for the more perfect Doctrine? What connexion is there between the casket and the jewel which it encloses?)

(γ) The Reverend writer promises us help, from “another consideration which has been neglected by writers on this subject.” (The announcement makes us attentive.)—“It is this,—that any true Doctrine of Inspiration must conform to all well-ascertained facts of History or of Science.” (We scarcely see the drift of this ill-worded proposition; but are disposed to assent.)—“The same fact cannot be true and untrue,” (Who ever supposed that it could?)—“any more than the same words can have two opposite meanings.” (But why glide at once into a gross falsity? Are there not plenty of words and speeches, of the kind called ‘equivocal’ or ‘ambiguous,’ which are of this nature? I am content to refer this writer to his own pages, for the abundant refutation of his own assertion. No man in the world knows better than Mr. Jowett that “the same words can have two opposite meanings.”) “The same fact cannot be true in Religion, when seen by the light of Faith , and untrue in Science, when looked at through the medium of evidence or experiment.” (Why not? For example,—‘He maketh His Sun to rise.’ ‘If God so clothe the grass of the field.’ ‘God said, Let there be light.’ Who sees not that the view which Faith and which Physical Science respectively take of the same phenomenon, may essentially differ?)—“It is ridiculous to suppose that the Sun goes round the Earth in the same sense in which the Earth goes round the Sun;” (Very ridiculous.)—“or that the world appears to have existed, but has not existed, during the vast epochs of which Geology speaks to us.” (Leave out the words, “appears to have,” and this also is undeniable.)—“But if so, there is no need of elaborate reconcilements of Revelation and Science.” (How does that follow? If what is thought to be Divinely revealed, and what is thought to be scientifically ascertained, seem to be conflicting truths,—why should not an effort be made to reconcile them?) “They reconcile themselves the moment any scientific) truth is distinctly ascertained.” (Yes: by the Human simply trying to thrust the Divine out of doors !)” As the idea of Nature enlarges, the idea of Revelation also enlarges:” (I deny that there is any such intimate connexion as this author supposes between Physical Science and Divinity,)—“it was a temporary misunderstanding which severed them.” (But when were Nature and Revelation ever for an instant “severed?”)—“And as the knowledge of Nature which is possessed by the few is communicated in its leading features at least, to the many, they will receive it with a higher conception of the ways of God to Man. It may hereafter appear as natural to the majority of Mankind to see the Providence of Glop in the order of the world, as it once was to appeal to interruptions of it.” (p. 349.) (As if an increased knowledge of Nature were the condition of Theological enlightenment . . . . I presume that the latter clause,—so hazy and the reverse of obvious in its meaning!—is intended to convey the sentiment which Mr. Baden Powell expresses as follows:—“The inevitable progress of research must, within a longer or shorter period, unravel all that seems most marvellous; and what is at present least understood will become as familiarly known to the Science of the future, as those points which a few centuries ago were involved in equal obscurity, but now are thoroughly understood.”)

(δ) We are next informed “that there are a class of scientific facts with which popular opinions on Theology often conflict. . . . . Such especially are the facts relating to the formation of the Earth and the beginnings of the Human. Race.” (p. 349.) (And pray, what “facts “are these, relative to the “beginnings of the Human Race,” which conflict with Scripture?) . . . . “Almost all intelligent persons are agreed that the earth has existed for myriads of ages:” (Which is perfectly true.)—“The best informed are of opinion that the history of nations extends back some thousand years before the Mosaic Chronology.” (Which is decidedly false.)—“Recent discoveries in Geology may perhaps open a further vista of existence for the human species; while it is possible, and may one day be known, that Mankind spread not from one but from many centres over the globe; or, (as others say,) that the supply of links which are at present wanting in the chain of animal life may lead to new conclusions respecting the origin of Man.” (A cool way, this, of anticipating that something which ‘may,’—(or may not!)—be discovered hereafter, will demonstrate that the beginning of the Bible is all a fable!)—“Now,” (proceeds our author,) “let it be granted that” “the proof of some of these facts, especially of those last-mentioned, is wanting; still it is a false policy to set up Inspiration or Revelation in opposition to them, a principle which can have no influence on them, and should be kept rather out of their way.” (Considerate man!) “The Sciences of Geology and comparative Philology are steadily gaining ground. Many of the guesses of twenty years ago have been certainties; and the guesses of to-day may hereafter become so. Shall we peril Religion (!) on the possibility of their untruth? on such a cast to stake the life of Man, implies not only a recklessness of facts (!), but a misunderstanding of the nature of the Gospel. If it is fortunate for Science, it is perhaps more fortunate for Christian Truth, that the admission of Galileo’s discovery has for ever settled the principle of the relations between them.”—(pp. 349-50.) .

Now, what a curious picture of a perverse and crooked mind does such a sentence exhibit Divine Revelation can “have no influence,” of course, on facts of any kind, (including facts in Physical Science,) when once those facts have been well ascertained. But, in the entire absence of such facts, why should we refuse to listen to the well ascertained Revelation of God? Nothing is more emphatic, for example, than the Divine declaration that the whole Human family is derived from a single pair; and the origin of Man is plainly set down in Genesis. Why then oppose to this, the confessedly undiscovered fact that “mankind spread from many centres;” and the purely speculative possibility that, hereafter, a certain theory “may lead to new conclusions respecting the origin of Man?”—As for “Religion” being “perilled on the possibility” of the truth or untruth of the Sciences of Geology and comparative Philology;—we really would submit that God may be safely left to take care of His own; and that “peril,” there is,—there can be,—none!

And then, the maudlin tenderness of an “Essayist and Reviewer” (of all persons in the world!) for “the life of Man,”—meaning thereby his Christian hope, and Faith in the Redeemer! . . . As if, (first,) Man’s “Life” were in any sense endangered, by our upholding the honour and authority of the Bible! And (secondly,) as if the age had shewn itself in the least degree impatient of scientific investigation I And (thirdly,) as if Religion depended, or could be made to depend, on Physical phenomena, or on the progress of Natural Science, at all! . . . . I scruple not to say that arguments like these impress me with the meanest opinion of Mr. Jowett’s intellectual powers: while they prove to demonstration that he does not in the least understand the subject on which he yet writes with such feeble vehemence.

But I may not proceed any further, or my pages will equal in extent those of the gentleman already named. Indeed, to follow that most confused of thinkers, and crooked of disputants, through all his perverse pages; to expose his habitual paltry evasive dodging,—his shifting equivocations,—his misapplications of Scripture,—his unworthy insinuations,—his plaintive puerilities of thought and sentiment;—would require a thick volume.—If Mr. Jowett does not deny the Personality of the Holy Ghost, he ought to be thoroughly ashamed of himself for penning sentences which can lead to no other inference. For he ought to know that when men talk of words “receiving a more exact meaning than they will truly bear;” and of what “is spoken in a figure being construed with the severity of a logical statement, while passages of an opposite tenour are overlooked or set aside:”—(p. 360.) men mean to repudiate the doctrine which those words are thought to convey; not to imply their acceptance of it.—So again, if Mr. Jowett holds the doctrine of Original Sin, he ought to be heartily ashamed of himself for having insinuated that it depends “on two figurative expressions of St. Paul to which there is no parallel in any other part of Scripture.” (p. 361.)—Nor, however moderate his attainments as a teacher of Divinity, ought he to be capable of putting forth such a notorious misstatement as that the doctrine of Infant Baptism rests upon a verse in the Acts (xvi. 33,)—which verse has really nothing whatever to do with the question. (p. 360.)

Professor Jowett shuts up his Essay with a passage which, for a certain amount of tender pathos in the sentiment, has been often quoted, and sometimes admired. He says:—

“The suspicion or difficulty which attends critical inquiries is no reason for doubting their value. The Scripture nowhere leads us to suppose that the circumstance of all men speaking well of us is any ground for supposing that we are acceptable in the sight of God. And there is no reason why the condemnation of others should be witnessed to by our own conscience. Perhaps it may be true that, owing to the jealousy or fear of some, the reticence of others, the terrorism of a few, we may not always find it easy to regard these subjects with calmness and judgment. But, on the other hand, these accidental circumstances have nothing to do with the question at issue; they cannot have the slightest influence on the meaning of words, or on the truth of facts. . . .

“Lastly, there is some nobler idea of truth than is supplied by the opinion of mankind in general, or the voice of parties in a Church. Every one, whether a student of Theology or not, has need to make war against his prejudices no less than against his passions; and, in the religious teacher, the first is even more necessary than the last. . . . . He who takes the prevailing opinions of Christians and decks them out in their gayest colours,—who reflects the better mind of the world to itself—is likely to be its favourite teacher. In that ministry of the Gospel, even when assuming forms repulsive to persons of education (!), no doubt the good is far greater than the error or harm. But there is also a deeper work which is not dependent on the opinions of men, in which many elements combine, some alien to Religion, or accidentally at variance with it. That work can hardly expect to win much popular favour, so far as it runs counter to the feelings of religious parties. But he who bears a part in it may feel a confidence, which no popular caresses or religious sympathy could inspire, that he has by a Divine help been enabled to plant his foot somewhere beyond the waves of Time. He may depart hence before the natural term, worn out with intellectual toil; regarded with suspicion by many of his contemporaries; yet not without a sure hope that the love of Truth, which men of saintly lives often seem to slight, is, nevertheless, accepted before God.”—(pp. 432-3.)

My respect for a fellow-man induces me to offer a few remarks on all this.

Let me be permitted then to declare that I am as incapable as any one who ever breathed the air of this lower world, of making light of the sentiments of true genius. I can respond with my whole heart to the passion-stricken cry of one who, when “regarded with suspicion by many of his contemporaries,” is observed to hail his fellows with confidence, across the gulph of Time; and as it were implore them, after many days, to do him right. Nay, were I to behold a man of splendid, but misguided powers, elaborating from God’s Word a plausible system of his own, whereby to bring back the Golden Age to suffering Humanity; and insisting that he beheld in the common revelations of the Spirit, the unsuspected outlines of such a form of polity as Man never dreamed of,—(nor, it may be, Angels either;)—I should experience a kind of generous sympathy with this bright-eyed enthusiast; even while I proceeded to test his wild dream by what I believed to be the standard of right Reason. Then, as the specious fabric was seen suddenly to collapse and melt away, should I not, with affectionate sorrow, secretly mourn that such brilliant parts had not been enlisted on the side of Truth? and feel as if I could have been content to go about for life maimed in body, or hopelessly impoverished in estate, if so great a disaster could but have been prevented as the loss of one who ought to have been a standard-bearer in Israel?

Once more. Although the cold shade of unbelief has never for an instant, (thank God!) darkened my spirit; so that one may not be very apt to sympathize with men who walk about hampered with a doubt; yet, were one to know, (as one has often known,—too often, alas!) that the arrow was rankling in a friend’s heart,—who by consequence shunned the society of his fellows, and walked in moody abstraction,—looking as if life had lost its charm, and as if nothing on the earth’s surface were any longer to him a joy;—would one not be the first to go after such a sufferer; and seek whether a firm hand and steady eye might not avail to extract the poisoned shaft? If that might not be, at least by daily acts of unaltered kindness, and the ways which brotherly sympathy suggests, who would not strive to recover such an one? If all other arts proved unavailing, it would remain for a man with the ordinary instincts of humanity, in silence and sorrow at least, to look on, while the solitary doubter was paying the bitter penalty,—doubtless, of his sin.

But how widely different,—rather, how utterly dissimilar,—is the phenomenon before us! Here is a singularly confused and shallow thinker oppressed with the vastness of his discovery, that the Bible—has nothing in it! Here is a Clergyman of the Church of England, and a Lecturer in Divinity, whose difficulty is how he shall convince the world that the Bible is—like any other book! Here is the sceptical fellow of a College, conspiring with six others, to produce a volume of which Germany itself, (having changed its mind,) would already be ashamed! . . . Mr. Jowett is enthusiastic for a negation! Without belief himself, he cannot rest because Christendom has, on the whole, a good deal of belief remaining! If he may but unsettle somebody’s mind,—his Essay will have achieved its purpose, and its author will not have lived in vain! . . . Sublime privilege for “the only man in the University of Oxford who” is said to “exercise a moral and spiritual influence at all corresponding to that which was once wielded by John Henry Newman!”

I shall be thought a very profane person, I dare say, by the friends and apologists of Mr. Jowett, if I avow that the passage with which he concludes his Essay, instead of sounding in my ears like the plaintive death-song of departing Genius, sounds to me like nothing so much as the piteous whine of a schoolboy who knows that he deserves chastisement, and perceives that he is about to experience his deserts. System, or Theory, the Reverend Gentleman has none to propose. Views, except negative ones, Mr. Jowett is altogether guiltless of. Can anybody in his senses suppose that a man “has, by a Divine help (!), been enabled to plant his foot somewhere beyond the waves of Time,” (p. 433,) who doubts everything, and believes nothing? Can any one of sane mind dream that posterity will come to the rescue of a man who, when he is asked for his story, rejoins, (with a well-known needy mechanic,) that he has “none to tell, Sir?” What then is posterity to vindicate? What has the Regius Professor of Greek written so many weak pages to prove? Just nothing! If Mr. Jowett’s Essay could enforce the message it carries, the result would simply be that the world would become disbelievers in the Inspiration of the Bible: they would disbelieve that Scripture has any sense but that which lies on the surface: they would therefore disbelieve the Prophets and Evangelists and Apostles of Christ: they would disbelieve the words of our Lord Jesus Christ Himself! . . . Has Mr. Jowett, then, grown grey under the laborious process of arriving at this series of negations? When he anticipates “departing hence before the natural term,” does he mean that he is “worn out with the intellectual toil” of propounding nothing! and that he expects the sympathy and gratitude of posterity for what he has propounded?

But this is not all. Instead of coining abroad, (if come abroad he must,) in that garb of humility which befits doubt,—that self-distrust which becomes one whose fault, or whose misfortune it is, that he simply cannot believe,—Mr. Jewett assumes throughout, the insolent air of intellectual superiority the tone of one at whose bidding Theology must absolutely ‘keep moving.’ A truncheon and a number on his collar, alone seem wanting. The menacing voice, and authoritative air, are certainly not away,—as I proceed to shew.

“It may be observed that a change in some of the prevailing modes of Interpretation, is not so much a matter of expediency as of necessity. The original meaning of Scripture is beginning to be understood.” (p. 418.)

“Criticism has far more power than it formerly had. It has spread itself over ancient, and even modern history. . . . Whether Scripture can be made an exception to other ancient writings, now that the nature of both is more understood; whether . . . the views of the last century will hold out,—these are questions respecting which” (p. 420.) it is hard to judge.

“It has to be considered whether the intellectual forms under which Christianity has been described, may not also be in a state of transition.” (p. 420.)

“Now, as the Interpretation of Scripture is receiving another character, it seems that distinctions of Theology which were in great measure based on old Interpretations, are beginning to fade away.” . . . “There are other signs that times are changing, and we are changing too.” (p. 421.)

“These reflections bring us back to the question with which we began,—What effect will the critical Interpretation of Scripture have on Theology?” (p. 422.)

Again:—“As the time has come when it is no longer possible to ignore the results of criticism, it is of importance that Christianity should be seen to be in harmony with them.” (p. 374.) (The sentences which immediately follow shall be exhibited in distinct paragraphs, in order that they may separately enjoy admiration. Each is a gem or a curiosity in its way.)

“That objections to some received views should be valid, and yet that they should be always held up as the objections of Infidels,—is a mischief to the Christian cause.”

“It is a mischief that critical observations which tiny intelligent man can. make for himself (!), should be ascribed to Atheism or Unbelief.”

“It would be a strange and almost incredible thing that the Gospel, which at first made war only on the vices of mankind, should now be opposed to one of the highest and rarest of human virtues,—the love of Truth.”

“And that in the present day the great object of Christianity should be, not to change the lives of men, but to prevent them from changing their opinions; that would be a singular inversion of the purposes for which Christ came into the world.”

We are really constrained to pause for a moment, and to inquire what this last sentence means. Are not “the lives of men” mainly dependent on “their opinions?” Why then contrast the two? And which of our “opinions” does Mr. Jowett desire to see changed? Would he have us resign our belief in the Atonement? reject the Divinity of Christ? deny the Personality of the Holy Ghost? put the Bible on a level with Sophocles and Plato? ridicule the idea of Inspiration? . . . How would it be a “singular inversion of the purposes of Christ’s Coming,” that Christianity should “prevent” mankind from “changing” such “opinions” as these?

“The Christian religion is in a false position when all the tendencies of knowledge are opposed to it.” (All the tendencies of knowledge, then, are opposed to the Christian Religion!)

“Such a position cannot be long maintained, or can only end in the withdrawal of the educated classes from the influences of Religion.” (So we are to look for “the withdrawal of the educated classes from the influences of Religion!”)

After anticipating “religious dissolution,” because of “the progress of ideas, (!) with which Christian teachers seem to be ill at ease,” (!) Mr. Jowett, (who we presume is speaking of himself,) says, “Time was when the Gospel was before the Age:” (The Gospel is therefore now behind the age!)—“when the difficulties of Christianity were difficulties of the heart only:” (When was that?)—“and the highest minds found in its truths not only the rule of their lives, but a wellspring of intellectual delight.” (All this then has ceased to be the case! “The highest minds” being of course represented by—Mr. Jowett!)

“Is it to be held a thing impossible that the Christian Religion, instead of shrinking into itself, (!) may again embrace the thoughts of men upon the earth?” (that is to say, “embrace the thoughts” of—Mr. Jowett!)—“Or is it true that since the Reformation ‘all intellect has gone the other way?’”

“But for the faith that the Gospel might win again the minds of intellectual men,” (such men as Mr. Jowett?)—“it would be better to leave Religion to itself, instead of attempting to draw them together.” (p. 376.)

Now this kind of language, in daily life, would be called sheer impertinence; and the person who could talk so before educated gentlemen would probably receive an intimation that he was making himself offensive. He would certainly be looked upon as a weak and conceited person. I really am unable to see why things should be written and printed which no one would presume to say! . . . Encircled by a little atmosphere of fog of his own creating, Mr. Jowett is evidently under the delusion that his own confused vision and misty language are the result of the giddy eminence to which, (leaving his fellow-mortals far behind him,) he has contrived, all alone, to soar. He anticipates the complaint of some unhappy disciple, that he “experiences a sort of shrinking or dizziness at the prospect which is opening before him:” whereupon Mr. Jowett invites the “highly educated young man,” (p. 373,) to consider “that he may possibly not be the person who is called upon to pursue such inquiries.” Who are they for, then? “No man should busy himself with them who has not clearness of mind enough to see things as they are.” (p. 430.) The clearness of mind, for example, which belongs to Mr. Jowett!

True enough it is that had such airs been assumed by such an one as Richard Hooker, who achieved the first four books of his ‘Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity’ before he was 40; and dying in his 46th year, proved himself to be the greatest genius of his age:—had language like Mr. Jowett’s been found on the lips of Joseph Butler, who when he was 44 produced his immortal ‘Analagy,’ and at the age of 26 delivered his famous Rolls ’Sermons:’—had Bishop Bull been betrayed into the language of self-complacency when, at the age of 35, he made himself famous by his ‘Harmonia Apostolica:’—the proceeding would have been intelligible, however much one might have lamented such an exhibition of weakness. . . . But when the speaker proves to be one of the very shallowest of thinkers, and most confused of reasoners;—a man who, although grey-headed, has done nothing whatever for Literature, sacred or profane;—nor indeed is known out of Oxford except for having been thought to deny the Doctrine of the Atonement;—a man who dogmatizes in a Science of which he clearly does not know so much as the very alphabet; and presumes to dispute about a Bible which he has evidently not read With the attention which is due even to a first-rate uninspired book;—then, one’s displeasure and impatience assume the form of indignation and disgust. The Divine who, purposing to prove that Holy Scripture is in kind like any other book, does so by inveighing against those who treat it differently; and indeed, on every occasion, assumes as proved the thing he has to prove:—is obviously the very man to vaunt the privileges of the intellect. The student of the Bible who mistakes the utterance of a lying prophet for the language of Amos, and then boldly charges the lie upon the inspired author of a book of Canonical Scripture;—is of course a proper person to discuss the Prophetic Canon. The gentleman who flatters himself that he has been sweeping the house to find the pearl of great price, (p. 414,) is a very pretty person, truly, to lecture about the Gospel! . . . I forbear reproaching Mr. Jewett with his invariable misapplications or misapprehensions of the meaning of Scripture: his false glosses, and truly preposterous specimens of exegesis. I am content to take leave of him, while he is flattering himself that he has “found the pearl of great price, after sweeping the house:” (p. 414:) and under that melancholy delusion, I fear he must be left,—holding the broom in his hands.