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about according to the direction of the wind! He was contented with his fortunes, and remained spectator e longinquo, choosing rather Neptunum procul a terra spectare furentem. But what had he with it? Envy, trouble, anxiety; his life laid open, and the reproaches which were cast upon him by his numerous enemies, made the subject of merriment and scorn. His veriest friends were alienated from him; Aleander and Eppendorf, for instance, the latter being, by a most extraordinary occurrence, quite such another as Erasmus, lukewarm in the cause of truth, anxious for his own quiet, averse from disputations, extreme measures, violent reformations. "Eppendorf," says Bayle,* was one of those who believed that the Roman communion needed a reformation, but who likewise thought that the Protestants did not go the right way in the fulfilment of their renovating work. Thus he equally displeased both parties. They went so far as to accuse him of receiving at the same time a pension from the Papists and the Lutherans. He paints himself as a man whose aim was to live far from the raging of the storm, and who, not clearly seeing with which party justice sided, expected that time would give him a clearer view of these debates." The comments offered by Bayle on this way of proceeding are perfectly applicable to Erasmus; we shall therefore translate them here at length: "If we judge things merely by the principles of natural light," (Bayle means our feelings, as uncontrolled by the sense of moral duty,) "the resolution which Eppendorf came to was reasonable. His purpose was to wait for the conclusion of this affair, without countenancing either those who sought or those who opposed the Reformation." The natural man will, of course, consider this the safest plan; and why? because he is actuated by a spirit of selfishness, incapable of sacrifice, eager for inaction; because he knows not that "That which in mean men we entitle patience,

Is pale, cold cowardice in noble breasts."

"Both parties appeared to him too ardent. Whether he considered right or left, the storm seemed equally violent; he said, with Cicero, Quem fugiam habeo, quem sequar non habeo; and he was too much a friend of peace to embark in a religious war. But in vain did he hope to stand on the sea-side, a quiet spectator of the threatening waves. He found that he was more exposed to the storm than if he had been on board one of the ships. Such is the unavoidable destiny of those who wish to remain neutral during either political or religious civil wars. They are at once exposed to the insults of both parties; they make enemies without securing friends, whilst by warmly supporting one interest, they might have avoided this unenviable position. Alas for man's deplorable fate, and for the manifest vanity of philosophical reason! It causes us to consider the peace of the soul and the quiet of our passions as the end of all our endeavours, and the most precious fruit of our painful meditations; yet, according to the world, none are so mis-esteemed as those who refuse to follow the tide of fashions; none are in a better situation than those who howl with wolves, and who obey the impulses of the most violent passions."

Bayle evidently regrets that, in the condition of human nature, it should be impossible for the philosopher to keep, unnoticed, far away from the battle-field. He makes out that inactivity gives peace to the soul; under pretence of tempering our blood, he would have us indifferent, unmovable:

* Dict. Histor. et Critiq., article "Eppendorf." VOL. II.-FOURTH SERIES.

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that the mental torpor after which sceptics or anythingarians endeavour, is quite the reverse of a sedative to our inward man, we do not think even necessary to maintain. Let the pursuit of truth be ever so difficult, let the struggle we have to encounter in its defence be ever so great, the principle within us finds in the motive which guides it, an ample compensation for many an hour of laborious research or of sad disappointment; the calm that pervades us arises from a sense of continued effort to grasp at the bright prize, not from a dogged indifference as to its value. But Bayle, as Erasmus, as Montaigne, as Voltaire, acted upon the system of concession and conciliation; he thought that it would be possible to make truth and error give to each other the right hand of fellowship; he, indeed, virtually denied the existence of error, reducing it to the comparatively insignificant rank of a constitutional faiblesse.

And yet Erasmus does not seem utterly without excuse, even before Bayle's tribunal. "With his non amo veritatem seditiosam," says our critic, "he remained wallowing in a quagmire; he falsely imagined that he had nothing to do but to get hold of the trunk of the tree, as by Luther's style of writing, and the wars which broke out in consequence of the Reformation, it was evident that the day of liberty had not yet dawned. Notwithstanding all this, it availed nothing that Erasmus lived and died in the Romish communion. Uselessly was he insulted by a few zealous Protestants. Several Catholic writers abused him both during his life-time and after his death." *

Abuse is saying very little indeed when the Doctor of Rotterdam had to cope with such enemies as the fickle and clever Aleander. This champion of the Pope had accompanied John Eck into Germany, in the capacity of Prothonotary and Nuncio, for the purpose of proceeding at once against Luther, who " was to be considered a stubborn heretic, and to be hewn off, as a seared and withered branch, from Christianity." Picture to yourself the Prelate's indignation when, upon his arrival in Saxony, he heard that his friend Erasmus not only did not disapprove, but even encouraged, the undaunted Reformer's attacks. Erasmus had said to the Elector of Saxony, at Cologne, that Luther's sole crime was, that he attacked the Pope's crown and the Monks' bellies. He had, moreover, written to Luther himself, and by some means this letter was made public. The Nuncio's insolence was raised to its highest pitch; he did all he could to ruin the character of his old friend, by mis-stating facts, presenting opinions in a false view, endeavouring to prepossess against Erasmus the Pope and the Bishop of Liege. Erasmus himself complained of these attacks much less bitterly than, perhaps, he would have been justified in doing, laying all the blame, not upon Aleander, but upon enemies of an obscurer sort, whom the spirit of jealousy had moved to such a paltry scheme of revenge, as the stirring up of private feuds between two friends.t

A sworn enemy of monachism, at variance with the dignitaries of the

* Dict. Hist. et Critiq., article "Erasmus," in nota.

+ Ibid., article "Aleander." See Erasmus, epist. 24, lib. xvii., xxiv., xxv. Hieronymum Aleandrum Nuncium, apostolicum hominem apprimè doctum, mihique vetere ac jucundissimâ necessitatione conjunctum, miris mendaciis in me conati sunt irritare.........Quid multi? persuaserant homini, ut acri simplicique ingenio prædito, ita credulo, me parum amicè de ipso et sentire et loqui. Nec defuerunt qui coalescentem amicitiam novis subindè delationibus discinderent.

Roman Church, whilst the Reformers could not consider him as their supporter, Erasmus spent his life in seeking to conciliate black and white, and in endeavouring to confine behind narrow boundaries the Reformation of the religious world. He would have stuck to half-measures, putting a piece of a new garment upon an old, and pouring new wine into old bottles. The extent of his error he never discovered; but then, how is it that his example, striking as it was, did not teach to others the lessons of wisdom? There is something very instructive in the thought of the philosopher striving throughout his life to keep himself beyond the influence of passing events, and at last writing down, for the instruction of future generations, his experience to the contrary in his comments on the adage: Dulce bellum inexpertis.*

In the unsearchable and all-wise decrees of Providence every human creature has his particular mission to fulfil in connexion with the times and events amongst which he is called to live. Erasmus cannot be considered as a reformer; but he was Luther's precursor, and his extraordinary efforts towards the revival of polite literature had more serious results than the emendation of half a dozen obsolete grammars or dictionaries. We must look backwards and consider the public mind as Erasmus found it, if we wish to gain an accurate knowledge of the mighty blows directed by the Doctor of Rotterdam, unknown to himself, against that antique and now ruinous edifice, the society of the middle ages. Nay, a deeper study than this, even, can alone let us into the secret, primary cause from which sprung at last and in due time the emancipation of the modern world. There is in our nature a twofold principle, whose influence is always at work, directing us either one way or the other, and very seldom allowing a proper equilibrium to keep us between two opposite extremes. It is impossible to deny, that humanity is conscious of its helplessness and its need of support; it feels, often in spite of its natural pride, that it must seek for assistance somewhere beyond itself, it looks abroad for external succour; rather than decide or draw conclusions, it will, through laziness or insouciance, accept from others ready-made axioms and rules framed beforehand. And yet, try to force yourself upon man's opinions; come to him with your laws, your dictates, your commands; say to him, (I purposely refrain from considering matters of religious faith,)"Thy intellect shall be confined within certain limits, it shall apply itself only to such subjects as I think proper; I only will dispense to thee thy mental nourishment,"-speak thus to man, and see if he will very submissively bow down under your rule, accept your dispensation, acknowledge your authority. Luther aptly compared humanity to a drunken man, falling alternatively right and left, according to the canter of the horse which he is riding. We are, as it were, divided between the spirit of freedom and the sense of our insufficiency. Now, when the Roman empire fell, crushed beneath the invading hordes of barbarians, when Christianity had overcome pagan civilization, among the ruins of the ancient world, among scenes of strife, bloodshed, and devastation, the church stood like an asylum, to save from destruction the gems of mental culture and moral improvement. Within its gates literature as well as religion sought a shelter, and it assumed the glorious task of drawing

* Une des plus belles dissertations qu'on puisse lire est celle d'Erasme sur le proverbe, Dulce bellum inexpertis. (Bayle, Dict. Hist. et Crit., article “ Erasmus,” in nota.)

together the various links which constitute the chain of society. Alas! that it ever aimed higher, that it ever entertained more ambitious views! But it did, and it readily saw how much depended upon her keeping a strict guard around the stores of literature, to which rude, uncultivated minds would more readily submit, and be less inclined to question her rights. It is this principle which gave rise to the whole literary character of the middle ages: a system of philosophy applied to the most futile discussions, the mind devoting itself to the study of monkish compilations, and obliged to feed upon scholastic quibbles delivered cum privilegio. The task destined to Erasmus was the freeing of the human intellect from the bonds within which it had been so long struggling: Berengarius, Abelard, and the Troubadours, had already, at different periods, thrown vivid flashes of light through the dark fields of that period; but these incomplete efforts were only preparatory to the general awakening produced by the Adagia, the "Praise of Folly," and the Notes on the New Testament. There is, perhaps, nothing better calculated to rouse the spirit of investigation than the perusal of the noble monuments bequeathed to us by classical antiquity. Reflective Germania had gathered from Lucan and Tacitus her first aspirations after liberty, and a deep converse with Cato and Brutus prepared her the better for the approaching warfare. Well, whatever accusations we may be justified in directing against the subject of the present sketch, the meed of glory to which he is entitled is great enough, and shame upon the man who would deny it to thee, O Erasmus!

GUSTAVE MASSON.

HORE BIBLICÆ.

No. XII. THE SPIRITUAL ROCK.

"AND did all eat the same spiritual meat; and did all drink the same spiritual drink for they drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them; and that Rock was Christ." (1 Cor. x. 3, 4.)

DR. BLOMFIELD says, "It has perplexed the commentators not a little, to show what is meant by the 'spiritual Rock which followed them." Why should it have perplexed them? To this question it would be difficult to furnish a satisfactory reply. Many are ready to find intricacy in the text of holy Scripture, where none truly exists. By the aid of a little learning, they obscure the meaning of the divine word. Leaving sound sense behind, they proceed in their path, looking for difficulties which they may resolve by aid of their fancied ingenuity or acquired knowledge.

Archbishop Ussher takes the word "rock" literally, asserting that the rock itself followed the Israelites. But in this case the epithet "spiritual " is overlooked. It was the spiritual rock that followed them, not the earthly. The majority, however, understand the term "rock," by a common figure, to mean, the water from the rock; which certainly yields a sense partaking less of the marvellous, and much more probable, than that advocated by the learned Archbishop.

"That by the rock,'" says old Matthew Poole, "is to be understood the water that God made to flow out of the rock, is evident; but though we read of water twice fetched out of the rock upon Moses's smiting of it, -once at Rephidim, before they came so far as Mount Sinai, another time at Kadesh, yet we nowhere read, in the history of the Jewish journeyings to Canaan, that the rock followed them. But this is not the only thing

that we read in the New Testament, relating to the history of the Old Testament, with some circumstances which we do not find recorded there; it is enough that it is plainly asserted here, and it must be presumed; or how can we imagine that the Israelites were supplied with water for forty years together?"

To this view it has been objected, that if the first rock at Rephidim be meant, and a river from it following them, it is not likely that they should want water at Kadesh; and if it be spoken of the second rock at Kadesh, how does it happen that they wanted “to buy water" of the Edomites at that place, seeing they had enough at their heels? But the advocates of it have replies ready. "God might," says Mede, "for a new trial of his people, make the first miracle cease when it pleased him." Again: "Those words of buying water of the Edomites are spoken in case they passed through the Edomites' land, where it was not likely the miracle should have followed them, it being a watered country."

So, then, the water that gushed forth from the rock at Rephidim followed the Israelites through the desert. It attended them like a river, to supply their wants. In this way there was truly a miracle, or rather a perpetual miracle, which would naturally lose the effect of an extraordinary interposition of Heaven, within the space of thirty-seven years. In so long a period it would dwindle down, in the eyes of the Israelites, to the level of an ordinary event. The striking interest it might have at first awakened, would be dissipated. Its miraculousness would be converted, in effect, into commonness. We cannot therefore allow the miracle to be thus desecrated by a class of expositors who think that they do honour to Scripture by introducing divine interpositions of a marvellous nature, when they have some pretext for doing so. God is not exalted by the vain imaginations of men who invoke his interference on every little occasion, where no suitable end can be demonstrated. It is true that a difficulty may be readily disposed of in this perfunctory way; time and thought may be saved, pietism pleased; but intelligence and reason are sacrificed.

Others who assume a miracle, suppose that the water was miraculously conveyed through the desert along with the Israelites. It was carried by the people, or their beasts of burden, or both together, and preserved potable by a miracle. This idea is encumbered with insuperable difficulties; for the people must then have been little else but water-carriers, each one burdened by a weight he could hardly support, in addition to the animals belonging to them.

But perhaps the water from the rock, which first gushed thence miraculously, followed the wanderers naturally in their subsequent course. The miracle may be confined to the original supply of water, the river afterwards accompanying them through the desert without any extraordinary interference of Heaven. "The truth is," says Macknight, "six hundred thousand men, with their women and children, and their cattle, required a river to supply them with drink. Accordingly, the river from the rock followed them. For, as Wall observes, from Horeb, which was an high mountain, there may have been a descent to the sea; and the Israelites, during the thirty-seven years of their journeying from Mount Sinai, may have gone by those tracts of country in which the waters from Horeb could follow them, till in the thirty-ninth year of the Exodus they came to Ezion Geber, (Num. xxxiii. 36,) which was a part of the Red Sea, a great way down the Arabian side, where it is supposed the waters from Horeb flowed into that sea."