The Future Punishment Question

STILL continues to engage the public mind both at home and abroad. It formed the subject of a symposaic disputation in a recent number of the North American Review; and a similar conference, in which eight professors and reverend gentlemen take part, has done much to run the Contemporary Review for April into a third edition. "A Symposium" is the name which has lately come into popular use to denote these discussions between theologians and philosophers. The name is not very happily applied, when the matter to be discussed is so solemn as the one before us. A name suggestive of the talk that goes on among convivial spirits at a drinking party, is hardly the one to be used when men are discussing the fate of the damned.

But we forget. Universalism, which is so popular just now, has calmly and deliberately erased such horrible words as "damnation" and "hell" from the pages of Holy Writ. The gravity of the discussion is thereby lightened to a considerable degree. Still, we are glad to notice that the Contemporary has kept clear of the term "Symposium," in placing before its readers "the present state of the question.'

It may comfort some of those who have been much disturbed by the prevalence of what people erroneously call "new theories," to know that such books as Canon Farrar's " Eternal Hope," and Mr. Cox's "Salvator Mundi," are more widely read than endorsed. Whilst the due meed of praise is accorded to both these writers-to the one for his brilliant rhetoric, and to the other for the ingenuity of his arguments and the boldness of his conclusions,-the teaching of both alike is (notwithstanding its professedly Scriptural character) regarded by many competent minds as having no reasonable basis in Scripture.

The writers in the Contemporary speak after the following fashion: PROFESSOR J. H. JELLETT points out that "Canon Farrar is not dogmatic in his positive teaching; and for this," he says, "no cautious thinker will blame him."

PRINCIPAL TULLOCH gives his conclusion upon the matter thus: "To assert, therefore, in the face of Scripture and experience, that 'all men will be saved,' is to make a very hardy assertion. About all such optimism there is a tinge of unreality. It may please the benevolent, but it can hardly satisfy the really thoughtful mind.'

THE REV. W. ARTHUR reminds the Canon of what both he and Mr. Cox seem to forget, viz., that those who reject their doctrines "do not believe in a judgment of any man by a light he never had, or in the final ruin of the majority of our race." He also remarks that the Canon "in dividing men at death into the good, the bad, and the mixed," is not following "Moses and the Prophets, Christ and the Apostles," for they, says he, "divide them ultimately into the wicked and

the just."

THE REV. J. BALDWIN BROWN is, of course, in sympathy with Canon Farrar, and especially with the modesty of the Canon's hope; for, like him, says Mr. Brown, "I am unable to accept the dogma of the Universalists."

THE FUTURE PUNISHMENT QUESTION.

181

THE REV. JOHN HUNT, D.D., while giving preference to the theory of Restitution, nevertheless affirms that "it cannot be said to be clearly taught in the New Testament."

THE REV. R. F. LITTLEDALE, D.C.L., is not indisposed to sympathise with the view set forth in "Eternal Hope;" but the Canon's case appears to him somewhat weak; indeed he apologises for the evident weakness on the ground that "Canon Farrar's forte is illustration, and argument his weak point."

THE REV. E. WHITE very naturally defends the theory to which his own name is so commonly attached, and says, "Canon Farrar's argument seems to me neither to rest on a quite solid basis, nor to reach a safe conclusion."

PROFESSOR SALMON, D.D., winds up the discussion in a very lively and trenchant style. Referring to the title of the book in question, Eternal Hope," he says, "I must own I should have been in danger of translating" it as "a hope destined never to be realised"-(the italics are ours). "The history of religion," continues the Professor, "proves summarily that if Christ revealed any doctrine of universal restitution, He did it so indistinctly that His followers failed to apprehend it. From the earliest times the popular and prevalent view among them was that which may be described as the popular view among Christians still. The doctrine of universal restitution, if ever taught at all among Christians, was but the private idea of speculative men, struggling for a bare toleration, and ultimately struggling in vain." Near the end of his very able paper, Dr. Salmon, rebuking the demand of Universalists for "means which would infallibly" induce repentance, makes without reserve this affirmation-"The sacred writers do not teach that they who reject the means which God has here provided for their restoration to virtue and happiness, may rely on some means provided hereafter which they cannot resist."

Such is "the present state of the question," from which it appears that there are some thinking men left, who are not driven away by this "wind of doctrine" from the faith in which they have found an anchorage so long. This being so, some of us may well be content to remain where we are. We may at least be pardoned if we do not choose to accept as satisfactory the "Hope" held out to us. There is an old saying, that "he who lives on hope is likely to die fasting," and we should be profoundly sorry to hold out to any poor deluded sinner an Eternal Hope" which, leading him to postpone salvation to a time beyond the present, should lead him to the unavailing tears of an eternal disappointment. J. FLETCHER.

"A conscience for his own soul, not his realm;
A twilight conscience lighted through a chink :
Thine by the sun; nay, by some sun to be,
When all the world hath learnt to speak the truth,
And lying were self-murder by that state

Which was the exception."

-Tennyson's Harold, Act iii., Scene i.

66

Is the sop the Government have thrown to appease the hungry clamour of the war party. It was obtained from the country on the pretence that it was to be used very much like the guinea given to the Vicar of Wakefield's daughter, to be kept in the pocket to swagger with, but not necessarily to spend. But, alas! Poor Richard's maxim is for once untrue. The pounds do not take care of themselves. The only reason why any of the Six Millions is left, is because, as Mr. Gladstone said, it was impossible for any Government to spend it between the time it was asked for and the end of the financial year. The money, however, has been kept in a bag with rather large holes, and very soon it will be all gone. Never mind! say some. It is good for trade!" So is lighting a pipe with five-pound notes, and in precisely the same sense. Yes, it is as 66 good for trade" as a magnificent national bonfire would be, to which every family in the United Kingdom had contributed its quota, viz., a chair from one house, a sofa from another, a table from a third, a bed from a fourth, and so on. In other words, cabinet-makers and house furnishers would be better off, but all the rest (the vast majority) of the nation would be poorer. There is all the difference in the world between spending money on fireworks, and applying it to a really useful purpose. The proper use of wealth is to increase wealth. Put the Six Millions in three equal proportions into, say, agriculture, manufactures, and house-building, and the nation will thereby be made really richer. Thus, £2,000,000 invested in grain would purchase 8,571,426 bushels, equal to 128,571,390 four-pound loaves; it would occupy 306,300 acres of land, and would find employment for 40,000 agricultural labourers, at fifteen shillings a week, for a whole year. £2,000,000 spent upon cotton goods would purchase 3,180,000 pieces, or 234,000,000 yards of calico. It would take to manufacture all this, thirty mills of 800 looms each, and would give employment to 27,500 persons, at wages averaging for men, women, and children, 13s. 9d. per week, for a year. Investing the third £2,000,000 in the erection of houses, 20,000 cottages could be built, costing £150 each, the building of which would give a year's employment to 37,500 men, at twenty-five shillings per week each.* Six Millions spent in this way would be good for trade, and would require neither an extra twopence on the income-tax, nor an extra fourpence per pound on tobacco, to support it.

Just a word on that tobacco-tax. Chancellors of the Exchequer have had their eye on the smoker for some time. Mr. Robert Lowe sought to make the lighting of the pipe a somewhat dearer operation; but somehow, he managed to light a flame of opposition instead. Sir Stafford Northcote is much happier and much more poetic in setting the nation to smoke the peace-pipe; for the tax is made (so we are told), and the money is wanted, in the interests of peace.

Every true poet is a prophet; and can we not see in the very first chapter of "Hiawatha" a dim foreshadowing of the present condition of England and the other nations of Europe? Does he not picture, in other garb, and by other names, the tribes that now look daggers

Cf. the calculation on £18,000,000 in "Our National Resources, and How They are Wasted." By W. Hoyle.

A STORY OF TURNER'S BOYHOOD.

183

in each other's faces? And can we not discern behind this smoke, sitting in the "Upper House," our "Gitche Manito, the mighty ?" Thus does Longfellow sing :"Gitche Manito, the mighty, Smoked the Calumet, the Peace-Pipe, As a signal to the nations.

Came the warriors of the nations,
Came the Delawares and Mohawks,
Came the Choctaws and Camanches,
Came the Shoshonies and Blackfeet,
Came the Pawnees and Omawhaws,
Came the Mandans and Dacotahs,
Came the Hurons and Ojibways.

A Story of Turner's Boyhood.

An anecdote has been preserved which gives the very starting-point of the boy's art life. One morning, when "Little Billy" was about six years old, the barber of Maiden Lane went to a certain Mr. Tompkinson's to dress that gentleman's hair. The boy was allowed to accompany his father on this occasion, and one can imagine him trotting along, grand with the responsibility of carrying the barber's scissors or curling-tongs. Mr. Tompkinson was a rich silversmith, whose house was filled with many objects of beauty. While the father was at work, frizzling the wig of his grand patron, the boy was placed on a chair, where he sat in silent awe, gazing with his great blue eyes at a huge silver salver on the table at his side, adorned with rampant lions. The barber's work finished, father and son again turn their faces toward the dusky little shop in the lane. The boy was silent and thoughtful all that day; he sat upstairs away from the confusion of the little shop below, brooding over a sheet of paper. At tea time he appeared, triumphantly producing his sheet of paper, upon which was drawn a lion, a very good imitation of the one mounted on the salver at Mr. Tompkinson's. The little barber, unlike some parents whose children have given early indications of artistic talent, was beside himself with delight. His son's vocation was at once settled in his mind. Thenceforth, when old customers, looking up from under the glittering razor, would mumble through obstructive lather, "Well, Turner, have you settled yet what William is to be?” the barber would smile proudly, rest the ready razor on a piece of thin brown paper, and reply, "It's all settled, sir; William is going to be a painter." Two or three years later the door of the little barber's shop was ornamented by small water-colour drawings hung around among the wigs and frizzes, ticketed at prices varying from one shilling to three. Some were copies or imitations of Paul Sandly, a fashionable drawing-master; others, original sketches made by Boy Turner, as he was then called. His great delight was to get outside of London, into the fields, and, with pencil in hand, spend whole days trying to catch the exquisite effects of colour and light and shade, which touched the young artist like a grand poem.—Helen S. Conant.

Fashionable Nobels.

BY REV. G. W. M'CREE.

We have no shallow prejudice against works of fiction. Don Quixote, the Vicar of Wakefield, Uncle Tom's Cabin, Adam Bede, Waverley, and Mary Barton, have all charmed us in turn; but of all the literary rubbish shot into the public mind, that of the fashionable novel is the worst. We have been looking over a very fashionable novel, and fell upon this:

"Woman ought to have her own way," says Mr. Vasher.

"After a while they go in for Woman's rights, and at last it comes to the husband's standing on the platform and holding the baby, while they hold forth upon everything in heaven and earth.”

"I don't think those sort of people ever have anything so frivolous as a baby," I say, considering. "Talking of babies, do you know that you will see two at luncheon to-day. They are coming down for certain.”

"Horrible," he says, shuddering. "If there is one sight more appetising, clean, and savoury than another, it is a baby at table."

66

'Take care the mothers do not hear you," I say, as we enter the house; "they would never speak to you again if they did."

"We have taken off our bonnetts, and pulled out our locks, have powdered or not powdered our hot faces as our habits or inclination will, and we are sitting one and all in the cool dining-room eating cold lamb and salad. The griffins outside shadow themselves grotesquely on the drawn blinds; they seem to grin in upon us malevolently, with their great mis-shapen noses and curling, wicked mouths. Everybody is talking at once, eagerly, alertly, as though the loss of his voice for two hours had been a severe trial, and he is determined to make up for lost time.

"I saw a man in church who was even smaller than I am," says Lord St. John to me, "and I was so pleased. Not but what I always console myself with a couplet that I saw somewhere once; it began—

"I fancy that applies to

nearly sure it is a hymn."

'Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.'"

things, not people. I say it doubtfully, and I am

"St. John has lost himself among the Psalms," says Charles. "The safest place he ever got into," says Mr. Silvestre.

"That comes of going to church," says Captain Brabazon.

A few pages farther on we come to this, and we ask our sensible readers, and they are all sensible, what they think of it?—

Little Lord St. John leaves his place, and goes round to look at the youngster, addressing it affectionately as Chucky, chucky, chucky!" whether under the mistaken notion that he is a species of young pig, I know not.

"Little angel,” murmurs Alice, gazing at her son.

"Pretty thing," says Milly, as her infant sneezes in her face.

"Never makes a sound," says Alice, kissing the top of her baby's golden head.

"Never cries at strangers," says Milly, rubbing her cheeks against her heir's primrose down.

I never knew until to-day how mothers drivel. Lord St. John ventures his face too near Alice's boy, and he puts out his plump, jelly-covered little fingers, and firmly grasped that gentleman's moustaches, with a solemn and delighted countenance. The more the poor man tries to get away, the harder the baby holds on, and not until tears of pain stand in Lord St. John's eyes, is he released. At the top of the table there is a sort of happy family show, that is calculated