slave of Satan into a saint of God. If this conversion takes place in the last hour or minute of life, we have seen that by the unanimous consent of theologians of all schools, it is enough; the object has been attained; a soul has been saved; the sinner's past wickedness has been blotted out, as regards its effects upon him. But its effects on society are not considered, and the result must be, and is, solely injurious to morality so far as it relates to conduct in this world. That depends on the performance of social duty; salvation depends on repentance and the subjective attitude of the soul towards God. And this repentance is powerful to cancel any number of previous breaches of the moral law. In other words, morality is not the one thing needful, but repentance is.

CHAPTER VI.

MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH.

In the previous chapter we saw on the best evidence, that of eminent doctors in various denominations, that true Christian doctrine postponed morality to repentance; and that salvation in the next world depended on other things than good conduct in this. The obvious inference was, that under such a scheme morality must necessarily be more or less slighted and undervalued, and that the alleged support afforded to ethics by the Christian religion must be either denied or considerably diminished. It will be perhaps useful to confirm this abstract deduction, by examples taken from the past of the actual working of Christian doctrine. If only a tithe of the compliments which it is usual to pay that doctrine be true, it is clear that the more we retrograde into the ages where it held undisputed sway over men's minds, the more moral we ought to find the public

and private life of the world. Wickedness and crime are assumed to be the natural result of neglected religion. No other cause is usually thought of in explaining the atrocities of the French Revolution. Here we see, it is remarked, the proper effect of atheism, and forsaking of the divine light of the gospel. Again, the corruption and immorality of the lower Roman Empire show what becomes of man when left to himself. The line of argument is too familiar to need further repetition of it. Now, we may profitably consult history as to the truth of these assumptions. Do we find, as a matter of fact, that the Ages of Faith were distinguished by a high morality? Were they superior in this respect to the present age, which is nearly on all hands acknowledged not to be an age of Faith? The answer must be in the negative. Taking them broadly, the Ages of Faith were emphatically ages of crime, of gross and scandalous wickedness, of cruelty, and, in a word, of immorality. And it is noteworthy that in proportion as we recede backward from the present age, and return into the Ages of Faith, we find that the crime and the sin become denser and blacker. The temperature of faith rises steadily as we penetrate into the past, almost with the regularity which marks the rise of the physical temperature of the air as we descend into a deep mine; but a neglect and defiance

of morality are found to ascend in a corresponding ratio. This, it must be owned, is an anomalous result, if morality be indeed so dependent on Christianity as is commonly supposed. When all men believed and doubted not, we should have found, according to the Christian hypothesis, a godly world; devout people living always with the great Day of Judgment before their eyes, crushing down the lusts of the flesh, in view of the tremendous penalties prepared for those who indulged them. But we find nothing of the kind. On the contrary, we find a state of things to which our imaginations are scarcely able to do justice in these comparatively tame and moral days. A progressive improvement has taken place in men's conduct, both public and private, but it has coincided not with an increase, but with a decay, of faith. This, beyond any question, is the most moral age which the world has seen; and it is as certainly the least believing age since Christianity became the religion of the West. The inference is plain, that Christianity has not been so favourable to morality as is usually assumed.

Let us turn back, and take a brief excursion through the ages behind us.

The present century need not detain us long. Most persons would admit that the state of morals when George the Fourth was king left much to be

desired. The scandals of the court were bad enough; but no court, however bad, can compromise a nation. The mass of the population was coarse, insolent, and cruel, and permitted things which would not be tolerated for a moment now. That there were exceptions, not only of individuals, but of whole though small classes, no one would deny. The Clapham Sect was a conspicuous example in a corrupt world; and many of the dissenters were truly pious, godfearing people, who had turned away from the prevailing grossness. But these were only fractions of the nation. The general tone was low, violent, and brutal. The drinking, gambling, prize-fighting, cock-fighting, bull-baiting England of the Regency, is hardly to be realized in these decorous days; though old men "still creep among us," who can partly resuscitate it for us, if carefully questioned. Let one of those venerable seniors be induced to describe the condition of London in his youth, and no hearer will have any doubt as to the extraordinary change for the better which has taken place in the last two generations.

From this century we pass into history; and as the object is to ascertain the moral tone of previous ages, let us quote the following passages from a writer, who was selected by common acclamation as "the great moralist," and was one of the most brave,