opinion of priests. But though some extremes of the old sorts still remain, there is now, in the middle, such a fusion of the two pursuits that a plain man is wofully puzzled. The theologian writes a philosophy which seems to tell us that the New Testament is a system of psychology; and the philosopher writes a Christianity which is utterly unintelligible as to the question whether the Resurrection be a fact or a transcendental allegory. What between the theologian who assents to the Athanasian denunciation in what seems the sense of no denunciation, and the philosopher who parades a Christianity which looks like no revelation, there is a maze which threatens to have the only possible clue in the theory that everything is something else, and nothing is anything at all. But this is a paradox far beyond my handling: it is a Budget of itself.
Religion and Philosophy, the two best gifts of Heaven, set up in opposition to each other at the revival of letters; and never did competing tradesmen more grossly misbehave. Bad wishes and bad names flew about like swarms of wasps. The Athanasian curses were intended against philosophers; who, had they been a corporation, with state powers to protect them, would have formulized a per contra. But the tradesmen are beginning to combine: they are civil to each other; too civil by half. I speak especially of Great Britain. Old theology has run off to ritualism, much lamenting, with no comfort except the discovery that the coak Paul left at Troas was a chasuble. Philosophy, which always had a little sense sewed up in its garments—to pay for its funeral?—has expended a trifle in accommodating itself to the new system. But the two are poles of a battery; and a question arises.
Where is the peck of pepper Peter Piper picked?
If Religion and Philosophy be the two poles of a battery, whose is the battery Religion and Philosophy have been made the poles of? Is the change in the relation of the wires any presumption of a removal of the managers? We know pretty well who handled the instrument: has he resigned or been[1] turned out? Has he been put under restriction? A fool may ask more questions than twenty sages can answer: but there is hope; for
- ↑ The notion that the Evil Spirit is a functionary liable to be dismissed for not attending to his duty, is, so far as my reading goes, utterly unknown tn theology. My first wrinkle on the subject was the remark of the Somersetshire farmer upon Palmer the poisoner—'Well! if tho Devil don't take he, he didn't ought to be allowed to be devil no longer.'
