a philosopher and wit, who appeared as one of the early opposers
of the Christian religion and its followers. The hostile sentiments of
the Heathens toward Christianity, says Dr. Neander, were different
according to the difference of their philosophical and religious views.
There entered then upon the contest two classes of men, who have never
since ceased to persecute Christianity. These were the superstitious, to
whom the honouring God in spirit and in truth was a stumbling stone, and
the careless unbeliever, who, unacquainted with all feelings of
religious wants, was accustomed to laugh and to mock at every thing
which proceeded from them, whether he understood it or not, and at all
which supposed such feelings, and proposed to satisfy them. Such was
Lucian. To him Christianity, like every other remarkable religious
phenomenon, appeared only as a fit object for his sarcastic wit. Without
giving himself the trouble to examine and to discriminate, he threw
Christianity, superstition, and fanaticism, into the same class. It is
easy enough, in any system which lays deep hold on man’s nature, to find
out some side open to ridicule, if a man brings forward only that which
is external in the system, abstracted from all its inward power and
meaning, and without either understanding, or attempting to understand,
this power. He, therefore, who looked on Christianity with cold
indifference, and the profane every-day feelings of worldly prudence,
might easily here and there find objects for his satire. The Christian
might indeed have profited by that ridicule, and have learned from the
children of darkness to join the wisdom of the serpent with the meekness
of the dove. In the end the scoffer brings himself to derision, because
he ventures to pass sentence on the phenomena of a world of which he has
not the slightest conception, and which to his eyes, buried as they are
in the films of the earth, is entirely closed. Such was Lucian. He
sought to bring forward all that is striking and remarkable in the
external conduct and circumstances of Christians, which might serve for
the object of his sarcastic raillery, without any deeper inquiry as to
what the religion of the Christians really was. And yet even in that at
which he scoffed, there was much which might have taught him to remark
in Christianity no common power over the hearts of men, had he been
capable of such serious impressions. The firm hope of eternal life which
taught them to meet death with tranquillity, their brotherly love one
toward another, might have indicated to him some higher spirit which
animated these men; but instead of this he treats it all as delusion,
because many gave themselves up to death with something like fanatical
enthusiasm. He scoffs at the notion of a crucified man having taught
them to regard all mankind as their brethren, the moment they should
have abjured the gods of Greece; as if it were not just the most
remarkable part of all this, that an obscure person in Jerusalem, who
was deserted by every one, and executed as a criminal, should be able, a
good century after his death, to cause such effects as Lucian, in his
own time, saw extending in all directions, and in spite of every kind of
persecution. How blinded must he have been to pass thus lightly over
such a phenomenon! But men of his ready wit are apt to exert it with too
great readiness on all subjects. They are able to illustrate every thing
out of nothing; with their miserable _nil admirari_,” they can close
their hearts against all lofty impressions. With all his wit and
keenness, with all his undeniably fine powers of observation in all that
has no concern with the deeper impulses of man’s spirit, he was a man of
very little mind. But hear his own language: The wretched people have
persuaded themselves that they are altogether immortal, and will live
for ever; therefore they despise death, and many of them meet it of
their own accord. Their first lawgiver has persuaded them also to regard
all mankind as their brethren, as soon as they have abjured the Grecian
gods, and, honouring their crucified Master, have begun to live
according to his laws. They despise every thing Heathen equally, and
regard all but their own notions as profaneness, while they have yet
embraced those notions without sufficient examination.” He has no
farther accusation to make against them here, except the ease with which
they allowed their benevolence toward their fellow Christians to be
abused by impostors, in which there may be much truth, but there is,
nevertheless, some exaggeration.
of the Christian religion and its followers. The hostile sentiments of
the Heathens toward Christianity, says Dr. Neander, were different
according to the difference of their philosophical and religious views.
There entered then upon the contest two classes of men, who have never
since ceased to persecute Christianity. These were the superstitious, to
whom the honouring God in spirit and in truth was a stumbling stone, and
the careless unbeliever, who, unacquainted with all feelings of
religious wants, was accustomed to laugh and to mock at every thing
which proceeded from them, whether he understood it or not, and at all
which supposed such feelings, and proposed to satisfy them. Such was
Lucian. To him Christianity, like every other remarkable religious
phenomenon, appeared only as a fit object for his sarcastic wit. Without
giving himself the trouble to examine and to discriminate, he threw
Christianity, superstition, and fanaticism, into the same class. It is
easy enough, in any system which lays deep hold on man’s nature, to find
out some side open to ridicule, if a man brings forward only that which
is external in the system, abstracted from all its inward power and
meaning, and without either understanding, or attempting to understand,
this power. He, therefore, who looked on Christianity with cold
indifference, and the profane every-day feelings of worldly prudence,
might easily here and there find objects for his satire. The Christian
might indeed have profited by that ridicule, and have learned from the
children of darkness to join the wisdom of the serpent with the meekness
of the dove. In the end the scoffer brings himself to derision, because
he ventures to pass sentence on the phenomena of a world of which he has
not the slightest conception, and which to his eyes, buried as they are
in the films of the earth, is entirely closed. Such was Lucian. He
sought to bring forward all that is striking and remarkable in the
external conduct and circumstances of Christians, which might serve for
the object of his sarcastic raillery, without any deeper inquiry as to
what the religion of the Christians really was. And yet even in that at
which he scoffed, there was much which might have taught him to remark
in Christianity no common power over the hearts of men, had he been
capable of such serious impressions. The firm hope of eternal life which
taught them to meet death with tranquillity, their brotherly love one
toward another, might have indicated to him some higher spirit which
animated these men; but instead of this he treats it all as delusion,
because many gave themselves up to death with something like fanatical
enthusiasm. He scoffs at the notion of a crucified man having taught
them to regard all mankind as their brethren, the moment they should
have abjured the gods of Greece; as if it were not just the most
remarkable part of all this, that an obscure person in Jerusalem, who
was deserted by every one, and executed as a criminal, should be able, a
good century after his death, to cause such effects as Lucian, in his
own time, saw extending in all directions, and in spite of every kind of
persecution. How blinded must he have been to pass thus lightly over
such a phenomenon! But men of his ready wit are apt to exert it with too
great readiness on all subjects. They are able to illustrate every thing
out of nothing; with their miserable _nil admirari_,” they can close
their hearts against all lofty impressions. With all his wit and
keenness, with all his undeniably fine powers of observation in all that
has no concern with the deeper impulses of man’s spirit, he was a man of
very little mind. But hear his own language: The wretched people have
persuaded themselves that they are altogether immortal, and will live
for ever; therefore they despise death, and many of them meet it of
their own accord. Their first lawgiver has persuaded them also to regard
all mankind as their brethren, as soon as they have abjured the Grecian
gods, and, honouring their crucified Master, have begun to live
according to his laws. They despise every thing Heathen equally, and
regard all but their own notions as profaneness, while they have yet
embraced those notions without sufficient examination.” He has no
farther accusation to make against them here, except the ease with which
they allowed their benevolence toward their fellow Christians to be
abused by impostors, in which there may be much truth, but there is,
nevertheless, some exaggeration.