combined in various degrees. Inexactitude, which is one of the
features of all popular compositions, is there particularly felt. Let
us suppose that ten or twelve years ago three or four old soldiers of
the Empire had each undertaken to write the life of Napoleon from
memory. It is clear that their narratives would contain numerous
errors, and great discordances. One of them would place Wagram before
Marengo: another would write without hesitation that Napoleon drove
the government of Robespierre from the Tuileries; a third would omit
expeditions of the highest importance. But one thing would certainly
result with a great degree of truthfulness from these simple recitals,
and that is the character of the hero, the impression which he made
around him. In this sense such popular narratives would be worth more
than a formal and official history. We may say as much of the Gospels.
Solely attentive to bring out strongly the excellency of the Master,
his miracles, his teaching, the evangelists display entire
indifference to everything that is not of the very spirit of Jesus.
The contradictions respecting time, place, and persons were regarded
as insignificant; for the higher the degree of inspiration attributed
to the words of Jesus, the less was granted to the compilers
themselves. The latter regarded themselves as simple scribes, and
cared but for one thing--to omit nothing they knew.[1]

[Footnote 1: See the passage from Papias, before cited.]

Unquestionably certain preconceived ideas associated themselves with
such recollections. Several narratives, especially in Luke, are
invented in order to bring out more vividly certain traits of the
character of Jesus. This character itself constantly underwent
alteration. Jesus would be a phenomenon unparalleled in history if,
with the part which he played, he had not early become idealized. The