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Rh in the sense in which the term has come to be used by ages that have inherited Aquinas's thoughts. He has Augustine s Predestinarianism, stiffened (according to Loofs) by Arab philosophical determinism, and he has much of Augustine's doctrine of the grace of God, though it is flanked with doctrines of human merit which might have astonished Augustine. The seven sacraments of course have their place in the body of the system, and are exhaustively studied. When we turn to Duns Scotus, we still find realism, still

Duns Scotus.

predestinarianism. And yet these are rivals. An attempt has been made by R. Seeberg to interpret Duns as the forerunner of Luther in his emphasis on the practical. Expert knowledge and judicial insight must decide the point; but, so far as the present writer can judge, it is illusory to imagine that Duns points us beyond the medieval assumptions. As generally understood, Duns makes caprice supreme in God. The arbitrary divine will makes right right and wrong wrong. Here, says Ritschl, the involuntary logic of predestinarianism speaks its last word. Though he may technically be classed as an "extreme realist," Duns is the forerunner of those later Nominalists, like William of Occam, who unsettled every intellectual ground of belief in order that they might resettle belief upon Church authority, not reason but rather scepticism being for them the . Later authoritative pronouncements on the part of the Roman Catholic Church favour Thomism and disown the Occamites; though the keen hostile criticism of Harnack affirms that the Church had need of both systems—of Thomism, to champion its cause in the arena of thought, and of the Nominalist theology to aggrandize the Church as the ruling power in practice.

When Protestantism arose, there was urgent need of reform. All sides granted that at the time, and all grant it now. Separation

Origins of Protestantism.

was not contemplated by any one at the first; this again is manifest. Yet it is also matter of plain history that Protestantism is more than a removal of abuses, or even than a removal carried out with reckless disregard of consequences. It is partly an outcome of Luther's personality—of his violence, no doubt, but also of his great qualities. It is due mainly to the dominant tradition in Church doctrine. Augustinianism reacted against attempts to tone it down in theory or neutralize it in practice, until at last it broke loose in the form of Protestantism. But Protestantism is largely due further to the Renaissance. The new knowledge enabled men to read the Bible, like all other ancient books, with a fresh mind. Finally, we have the true central cause in the Pauline doctrine of faith. Evaded by Augustinianism, it came back now, with some at least of its difficulties and paradoxes, but also with its immense attractive and dynamic power. When the Reformers went beyond Augustine to Paul, Protestantism was born. Even the Counter-Reformation, so far as it was a matter of doctrine (Council of Trent, 1545—63)> took the form of reaffirming a cautious version of Augustinianism.

Whether Protestantism found its adequate doctrinal expression is very doubtful. Luther was no systematic thinker; Melanchthon,

Melanchthon.

the theologian of the Lutheran Church, gave his system the loose form of , and went back more and more in successive editions to the traditional lines of doctrinal theory—a course which could not be followed, without bringing back much of the older substance along with the familiar forms of thought. To find the distinctive technicalities of Lutheranism we have to leave Melanchthon's system (and his great Reformation creed, the Augsburg Confession) for the Formula of Concord and the lesser men of that later period. In Calvin, indeed,

Calvin.

the Reformed theology possessed a master of system. We notice in him resolute Predestinarianism—as in Luther, and at first in Melanchthon too; the vehicle of revived Augustinian piety—and resolute depotentiation of sacraments, with their definite reduction to two (admittedly the two chief sacraments) — baptism and the Lord's Supper. In affirming the "inamissibility" of grace in the regenerate (not simply in the unknowable elect) Calvin went beyond Augustine, perhaps beyond Paul, certainly beyond the Epistle to the Hebrews, resolutely loyal to the logic of his non-sacramental theory of grace. Yet, in contrast with the doctrine usually ascribed to Ulrich Zwingli, Calvin teaches that grace does come through sacraments; but then, nothing comes beyond the fruits of faith; from which grace all salvation springs necessarily. To use technical language, Calvinism holds that sacraments are needful , (merely) "because commanded." In contrast with this, orthodox Lutheranism has to teach baptismal regeneration and consubstantiation, as well as justification by faith. It is hard to see how the positions harmonize. Zwingli and Calvin, developing a hint of Hus, introduce a distinction between the visible and the invisible Church which Melanchthon repudiates but later Lutheranism adopts. The Articles of the Church of England (19, 26) speak of the visible Church, but unless by inference do not assert a Church invisible. Upon most points Anglicanism seeks for a  of its own. Resolutely Protestant in early days and even Calvinistic, it yielded to the suggestions of its episcopal constitution and sacramental liturgies; and now its theologies range from Calvinism at one extreme to outspoken hatred of Protestantism at the other. Historically, great issues have hung upon the dislike by which High Lutheranism and High Anglicanism, those two midway fortresses between Rome and Geneva, have been estranged from each other.

It is thus plain that the stream of Protestantism was very early split up into separate channels. Did any of these theologies do justice to the great master thought of grace given to faith? Antecedently to their separation from each other the Reformers took over the theology of Greek orthodoxy as a whole. Complaints against that theology may be quoted from early writings of every Reformer, even Calvin. They knew well that the centre of gravity in their own belief lay elsewhere than in the elaborately detailed scheme of relations within the Godhead or in the Theanthropic person. But ultimately they persuaded themselves to accept these definitions as normal and biblical, and as presuppositions of Christ's saving work. The decision had immense results, both for religion and for theology. Nor

Continued unity in Protestant doctrines.

did the unity of Protestant theology — Lutheran and Calvinist — confine itself to the period before the great divergence. Men of the second or third generation — often called the "Protestant Scholastics" — work together upon two characteristic doctrines which the fathers of Protestantism left vague. The Reformation doctrine of Atonement, while akin to Anselm's, differs in making God the guardian of a system of public law rather than of His private or personal honour. This conception came to be more fully defined. Christ's twofold obedience, (a) active and (b) passive, produces jointly a twofold result, (1) satisfaction to the broken moral law, (2) merit, securing eternal life to Christ's people. There is no such full and careful theory of Atonement in any Catholic theology, and, according to so unbiassed a judge as A. Ritschl, it represents the last word in doctrine along the lines laid down by the Reformers. Could Catholics adopt it? Hardly; for the Protestant assertion of Christ's merit is shadowed, if any doctrine of merit in the Christian is brought in. Yet the very word reminds us of the legal piety which is characteristic of Western popular religion through all its history. We now find "merit" confined to Christ, and the usual application ruled out, somewhat as St Paul's intenser use of Pharisee conceptions destroyed instead of confirming the idea of righteousness by works. But it is by no means clear that this Protestant doctrine of Atonement is a unity. "Merit" is an intruder in that region of more strict and majestic law; yet Christ's "merit" is the only form under which the positive contents and promises of the Christian Gospel are there represented. Even the most resolute modern orthodoxy usually tries to modify this doctrine. There is a break with the past, which no revival or reaction can quite conceal.

Again, the Reformation had drawn a line round the canon—sharply in Calvinism, less sharply in Lutheranism (which also gave a quasi normative position to its Confessions of Faith). Anglicanism once more resembles Lutheranism with differences;