The distinction above drawn between the two great antitheses of Christendom may be illustrated as follows. Two sets of little general dealers lived opposite to one another: all sold milk. Each vaunted its own produce: one set said that the stuff on the other side the way was only chalk and water; the other said that the opposites sold all sorts of filth, of which calves' brain was the least nasty. Now the fact was that both sets sold milk, and from the same dairy: but adulterated with different sorts of dirty water: and both honestly believed that the mixture was what they were meant to sell and ought to sell. The great difference between them, about which the apprentices fought each other like Trojans, was that the calves' brain men poured milk into the water, and the chalk men poured water into the milk. The Greek and Roman sects on one side, the Protestant sects on the other, must all have _churches_: the Greek and Roman sects pour the New Testament into their churches; the Protestant sects pour their churches into the New Testament. The Greek and Roman insist upon the New Testament being no more than part and parcel of their churches: the Protestant insist upon their churches being as much part and parcel of the New Testament. All dwell vehemently upon the doctrine that there must be milk { 36} somewhere; and each says--I have it. The doctrine is true: and can be verified by any one who can and will go to the dairy for himself. Him will the several traders declare to have no milk at all. They will bring their own wares, and challenge a trial: they want nothing but to name the judges. To vary the metaphor, those who have looked at Christianity in open day, know that all who see it through painted windows shut out much of the light of heaven and color the rest; it matters nothing that the stains are shaped into what are meant for saints and angels.
But there is another side to the question. To decompose any substance, it must be placed between the poles of the battery. Now theology is but one pole; philosophy is the other. No one can make out the combinations of our day unless he read the writings both of the priest and the philosopher: and if any one should hold the first word offensive, I tell him that I mean _both_ words to be _significant_. In reading these writings, he will need to bring both wires together to find out what it is all about. Time was when most priests were very explicit about the fate of philosophers, and most philosophers were very candid about their 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. { 37}