Hugh Martin (1822-1885) was one of a remarkable group of theologians produced by Scottish Presbyterianism in the mid-nineteenth century.  Pre-eminent among them were Thomas Chalmers, William Cunningham and Robert Candlish, all of whom were household names in Victorian Scotland.  The others were less prominent, but this bespeaks no inferiority in point of theological ability.  Such men as Martin, James Buchanan and George Smeaton were not inspirational statesmen like Chalmers; nor formidable debaters like Cunningham; nor again brilliant administrators like Candlish.  Nor have they had the same influence on subsequent theological developments as their American contemporaries, Charles Hodge, Robert Dabney, William Shedd, James Thornwell and Archibald Hodge.  But as theologians they were in the very first rank.

For scintillating creative brilliance matched to reverent orthodoxy Martin outshines them all, on both sides of the Atlantic.  Born in Aberdeen on 11 August, 1822, he received his early education at Aberdeen Grammar School.  He continued his studies at Marischal College (part of Aberdeen University), graduating (Master of Arts) in April, 1839.  During his student career, Martin distinguished himself as an outstanding mathematician.  He retained this interest throughout his life.  From 1866 to 1868 he acted as External Examiner in Mathematics to Edinburgh University; and one of his later publications was, A Study of Trilinear Co-ordinates (Cambridge, 1867).

For his theological education, Martin attended King's College, University of Aberdeen.  The indications are that at that time he was not of evangelical sympathies.  He certainly did not support the evangelical struggle to free the church from the dead hand of patronage (patrons were local landowners who had the right to choose ministers and impose them on local congregations.  The people saw such ministers as `intruders'and for this reason the struggle is often labelled the Non-Intrusion Controversy).  In 1842, however, he happened to be present at the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland while Cunningham was delivering one of his memorable speeches.  He was thoroughly won over, and for the rest of his life was an unflinching champion of Free Church principles.

Martin was ordained to the ministry in 1844, in the parish of Panbride, in the county of Forfar, near the famous golf course of Carnoustie on the east coast of Scotland.  In 1846, he married Elizabeth Jane Robertson: their son, Alexander Martin (who did not share his father's theological outlook), was Principal of New College, Edinburgh, from 1918 to 1935.

In 1858 Martin was called to Greyfriars Free Church, Edinburgh, but his ministry there was brought to a premature close when ill-health forced him to retire in 1865.  He spent his remaining years in Lasswade, near Edinburgh, preaching up and down the country as invited, pursuing his interest in maths and music; and writing.  His earliest work, Christ's Presence in the Gospel History was published in 1860 (reprinted under the title The Abiding Presence by the Knox Press, Edinburgh: no date, but circa 1961).  His remaining works all belong to the period of his retirement: The Prophet Jonah, London, 1866; The Atonement, London, 1870; Relations between Christ's Headship over Church and State, Edinburgh, 1875; The Shadow of Calvary, Edinburgh, 1875 (reprinted Glasgow, 1956, by Free Presbyterian Publications); and The Westminster Doctrine of the Inspiration of Scripture, London, 1877.

Besides these major publications, Martin was a frequent contributor to the British and Foreign Evangelical Review and to The Watchword, a magazine devoted to the advocacy of Free Church principles.  He was also a prolific and vigorous pamphleteer.  The background to this department of Martin's activity is that from 1863 to 1873 there was a sharply polarised debate in the Free Church of Scotland over the question of union with the United Presbyterian Church (which was itself the result of an earlier union between the various churches derived from the Secession of 1733).  This debate centred on two issues: the extent of the atonement and national recognition of Christianity (the Establishment Principle).  Much of Martin's polemical work is taken up with these questions.  The United Presbyterians had already abandoned the Establishment Principle and were in process of abandoning Limited Atonement.  Any union with them was bound to involve compromise on the part of the Free Church, which still held both positions.  In the event, the negotiations came to nothing in Martin's life-time.  They were resumed, however, twenty years later, in a way that fully justified Martin's forebodings.  The Free Church delivered itself from its dilemma by passing (in 1893) a Declaratory Act which radically altered the terms of Confessional subscription.  In future, office-bearers would be committed only to such doctrines as enter into `the substance of the faith'.  It was easy, of course, to argue, that neither Limited Atonement nor the Establishment Principle had that level of importance: they were `open questions'.  But a day would arise when men would claim, equally forcefully, that their ordination vows also gave them liberty of opinion on such matters as the resurrection of Christ and the virgin birth.  As far as their legal position was concerned, they were undoubtedly correct.  The Declaratory Act (and its equivalent in other presbyterian churches all over the world) made the Confession completely inoperative.

Muted echoes of these debates can still be heard in The Atonement, especially in the references to particular redemption.  Before looking specifically at this particular volume, however, it may be helpful to glance at Martin's position on two other issues: the inspiration of scripture and the relation between Christianity and science.

Nothing better illustrates Martin's ability to bring a fresh approach to old questions than his incisive handling of the doctrine of inspiration.  The issue arose because of the growing influence in Scotland of German biblical scholarship.  This would culminate in the unqualified acceptance of the views of Graf and Wellhausen by such presbyterians as William Robertson Smith (whose father was a friend of Martin's) and George Adam Smith.  In Martin's day, the trend was just beginning to appear, particularly in the publications of Marcus Dods, then minister of Renfield Free Church, Glasgow, but destined to become Professor of New Testament Exegesis and later Principal at the New College, Edinburgh.  It was the publication of Dods'views (particularly in a sermon entitled Revelation and Inspiration) that led Martin to publish, first, The Westminster Doctrine of the Inspiration of Holy Scripture and then (in 1877) its sequel, Letters to Marcus Dods.

The remarkable thing about these publications is the use they make of words to be found in the opening paragraph of the Westminster Confession: `it pleased the Lord  ...  to commit the same wholly unto writing'.  Martin annotated this to read:  `it pleased the Lord (Himself) to commit the same (His own revelation) wholly unto writing'.  He was of the view, first, that these words mean that the Bible is, in the fullest and simplest meaning of the term, the written word of God - of divine authorship throughout and throughout; and, secondly, that no more need be said.  He saw no need to immerse himself in further complications or to enslave himself to such terms as `verbal'or `plenary'(or, in our day, `inerrant').  Once we have said that the Bible is in its entirety the word of God (`just as "this little tractate" will be mine'), we have said everything.  If God Himself committed the revelation to writing, then the Bible is the divine record of divine revelation.

This does not mean that Martin denied or even minimised the humanness of scripture.  Quite the contrary: he firmly emphasised it and eloquently expounded it.  The two great facts were, first, that God committed the scriptures to writing and, secondly, that men wrote them.  Inspiration was the connecting link between these facts: `The concurrence and harmony, the actual co-existency and unifying of these two facts, are mediated and secured by what is called inspiration.'  A divine record written by men: that is what inspiration effects; that is all we know about it; that is the least we can ask men to believe; and that is the most we can ask men to believe.  Through men, the Lord committed His own revelation to writing.

None of Martin's major publications deals with the question of Christianity and science, but tucked away in the obscure columns of the Watchword (Vol VI, No 68, November 1, 1871, pp. 340-347) there is a fascinating article entitled, Village Lecture on Scientific Education.  Although of brief compass, it deals with fundamental principles and allows Martin to state his basic approach clearly.  He is scornful of the idea that science and religion are opposed to one another.  `I stand for Science,'he writes, `as fearlessly as I stand zealously for Religion.'  Referring to Newton, Faraday, Paley, Brewster and Chalmers, he goes on to say, `Be assured, it is not the front-rank men of science who have ever quarrelled with religion.  Nor is it the front-rank men of piety who have ever quarrelled with science. Above all, it is not by the men who have been front-rank men in both realms  ... that any countenance has been given to the idea that science and religion contradict each other.'  The opposition has come from `the men of crotchets’,  not from the men of completeness.'

On the specific issue of Genesis and Geology Martin takes his cue from Thomas Chalmers: `the bible does not fix the epoch of the creation of the earth, whether more recent or more remote.  It assures us that the earth was created, but when it does not say.'  On the other hand, the Bible does indicate, according to Martin, that the flora and fauna (including man) which currently exist on earth were created comparatively recently (around 6,000 years ago).  This, again, is similar to Chalmers'theory of a gap between Genesis 1.1 and Genesis 1.2.  Martin, however, gives it an individual twist: the Bible leaves us free to believe that the earth may have existed for millions of years under different conditions to those prevailing today, covered with different flora and inhabited by different fauna.

This appears to have been the scenario Martin himself was personally inclined to embrace: an earth of unlimited antiquity, inhabited for millions of years by flora and fauna which are now extinct and replenished some 6,000 years ago in accordance with the six-day creation story in Genesis.  It would not, of course, secure a harmony between Genesis and 20th century geology: its paleontological implications alone are enormous.  It does indicate, however, that the fundamental drift of Martin's thought was towards accommodation with science rather than confrontation.

But Martin also had a fall-back position:  Suppose the earth didn't exist until five natural days before the creation of Adam, what then?  He is still prepared `to grant to science all the long periods of millions upon millions of years which it demands.'  He sustains this paradoxical position by distinguishing the question of the age of the earth from the question of the time of its creation.  In other words, the earth (and man) could have been created old.  The difference between Martin's presentation of this idea and similar presentations among modern evangelicals is that he is much more respectful towards geologists.  `I, for one, will never blame geology, if she thinks she has the means and power of tracing the condition of the stratified rocks in the bowels of the earth, millions of years before man was created; nay, though it should turn out to be millions of years before the globe itself was created.'  This is no simple Old Earth Theory.  It is extremely sophisticated, arguing that just as science is entitled to predict the future of the earth without taking account of the cataclysm of the Parousia, so it is entitled to calculate its past without taking account of the cataclysm of creation.  `Whatever,'Martin writes, `science accurately reasons of the state of this globe a million years ago, is legitimately tabulated, and scientifically true, though the world had been created yesterday.'

When it comes to the doctrine of the atonement, Martin's is but one of several distinguished Scottish contributions from the middle of the 19th century.  Robert Candlish published his work, The Atonement: its Efficacy and Extent in 1867.  This was followed in 1868 by George Smeaton's, The Doctrine of the Atonement as Taught by Christ Himself and its sequel, The Doctrine of the Atonement according to the Apostles (1870).  Thomas Crawford of Edinburgh University (and the Established Church) issued his treatise, The Doctrine of Holy Scripture respecting the Atonement in 1871.  In the United States, A A Hodge's study, The Atonement, appeared in 1867.

Martin's work lacks the exegetical thoroughness of Smeaton and Crawford, the systematic completeness of Hodge and the sharp focus of Candlish (who deals mainly with the Extent of the Atonement).  But it is unsurpassed as a synthesis of orthodoxy and originality.  It sets forth the same doctrine as Hodge, yet the atmosphere is completely different.  It scintillates and soars and sets standards of brilliance all its own.

It may seem strange, in the light of later developments, that Martin makes no mention of John McLeod Campbell, whose work, The Nature of the Atonement, was first published in 1856.  But the omission is not strange in its historical context.  Campbell's work made little impact at the time.  Martin does, however, show a keen awareness of the views of such writers as F D Maurice, F W Roberston and Horace Bushnell, and his observations on their theories form one of the fascinations of this volume.

Martin's doctrine of the atonement is built on two foundations: Covenant and Priesthood.  He was, by deep conviction, a Federal theologian, but never was the covenant concept handled with such a lightness of touch or applied so effectively to modern challenges.  He does not endorse the idea of a Covenant of Redemption distinct from the Covenant of Grace, but it is clearly upon an eternal agreement between the Father and the Son that everything hinges.  Christ came into the world by arrangement; and that arrangement laid down the work He was to do, the outcome He was to accomplish and the constituency who were to benefit.

The key-note of this covenant, according to Martin, is that very principle that lay at the heart of the theology of Calvin: union with Christ.  Such a union could not be secured by the mere fact of incarnation, `unless we are to be satisfied with a relation which Christ holds alike to the saved and the unsaved'.  Nor, for the purposes of atonement, can we fall back on the idea of spiritual union (union by the Holy Spirit).  Such a union is indispensable to our enjoying the benefits of redemption, but the act of redemption itself requires a prior union.  In what sense was Christ united to us at the moment of His death two thousand years ago?  We were not at that time united to Him by His Spirit.  We may say that He died as our representative, our surety and our substitute, but the only fact that can explain the substitution itself is the covenant.  We and He were federally one.  The Father gave us to Him; He (voluntarily and willingly) accepted us; and He kept us and saved us.  In the mystery of eternal communion with the Father and the Spirit He took full responsibility for the sins of His/Their people; undertook to answer for them; and promised to do all that their remission required.

In discussing the priesthood, Martin links the concept closely to the idea of intercession.  The whole point of the sacrifice of Christ is to lay a foundation for the intercession.  This immediately means that the primary movement of the atonement must be God-ward.  If His intercession is God-ward (pros ton patera, 1 John 2:1) then the hilasmos on which it is based must be God-ward as well.  This is fatal to all subjective theories of the atonement.  The Intercessor seeks to influence God: to move Him (in accordance, of course, with the Father's own eternal predisposition) to forgive the sins of which His people stand accused; to provide for their needs; and to receive their praise.

None of this is compatible with the idea of an intercession or atonement of which the purpose is to change us; or, more precisely, to change our views of the divine character.  In fact Martin holds that the Liberal argument is fatal to its own cause.  If God is prepared to forgive us only on condition that we change our minds about His character, what kind of God is He?  What kind of Judge is He: one whose final verdict and sentence depend on what the accused think of Himself?  The orthodox doctrine was moral at its very core: forgiveness must be grounded in equity, and equity is secured by the vicarious obedience of Christ.  But if the structures of the moral universe presented no impediment to remission - if it was simply a matter of the divine will - then it was unspeakably churlish of the Almighty to require any kind of atonement: particularly an atonement which had as its object changing men's minds about Himself.  Reduced to its essence, the Abelardian view and all its modern variants amount simply to this:  `Love me: or else!'

Underlying all of Martin's thought is a keen sense of the sheer anomalousness of Calvary.  It was an absurdity!  an outrage!  Why did the wrath of God alight here? here, on the Sinless One?  here, on God's only Son?  Such an outpouring of God's anger has momentous implications for morality and even for theism.  `The universe were one vast hell of suspense and horror,'writes Martin, ` if God's wrath could alight elsewhere than where it is deserved.'  What gave God the right to do it?  You have to see the urgency of the question before you can see the glory of the answer.  The anger of God alighted at Calvary because there, on the shoulders of Jesus, was the sin of the world.  It alighted because it was deserved.  It was deserved because He was His people's substitute.  He was their substitute because He had covenanted to be so.  And He had so covenanted in order to have an unanswerable case when He represented them at the right hand of Majesty.

Four other points in Martin's treatment deserve to be noted briefly.

First, His unequivocal stress on the primacy of the divine love.  He had no patience with the idea that Christ had to make the Father willing: `if God the Son could turn the mind of the Father, then God is not of one mind, neither are the Son and the Father one.'  Martin would have been totally sympathetic to the modern idea that the Father and the Son are characterised by homoagape: they are one-and-the-same-in-love.  God in His triuneness loved His people from all eternity.  Indeed, He never existed without loving them.  The atonement is the result of that love, not its cause.

Secondly, Martin drew a clear distinction between forgiveness and remission.  Mere forgiveness, he argues, is not remission.  Forgiveness is `letting the sinner off'.  Remission is much more radical.  It is the removal of guilt, criminality and blameworthiness: `a position and relation towards God in which His wrath would be undue, unrighteous, impossible.'  This is the position of the believer.  Because of the sacrifice of Christ, he is not merely `let off'.  In Christ, he is righteous with all the righteousness of God: as righteous as God Himself.  The moral universe has no more right to strike him down that it has to topple the Almighty from His throne.

Thirdly, although he was totally committed to the idea of particular redemption, Martin also believed passionately in the free and indiscriminate offer of the gospel.  That was, of course, a commonplace among Scottish Reformed theologians: as clear in the precise Cunningham as in the pragmatic Chalmers.  What is peculiar in Martin is the way he links the offer to the covenant.  The offer is made by those who already stand within the covenant; but it is made to those who are outside.  In fact, the only qualification we need to receive the offer is that we are outside.  Martin is brilliantly explicit on this. `Of course,'he says, ` it is a universal call.  The one thing that it takes for granted is that sinners are outside the covenant.'  This is linked, in turn, to the voluntariness of Christ's self-offering.  If Christ willingly and freely covenanted to pass over to the side of sin, shall we not pass over to the side of righteousness?

Finally, Martin implicitly rejects the oft-quoted aphorism that `theories of the atonement are commonly correct in what they affirm and wrong in what they deny.'  Referring to subjective theories of the atonement, he writes:  `there is not only no measure of truth in these theories, but they are wholly false and deadly, when presented, as they often are presented, as adequate expositions of the doctrine of the atonement, explanations of the reason and design of the death of Jesus.'

Martin was, surely, correct.  The Moral Influence Theory (that Christ died to impress upon us a sense of the divine love) and the Rectoral Theory (that Christ died to solemnise us with a sense of divine justice) are, both of them, false as explanations of the way that the death of Christ actually atones.  It atones by its God-ward effect.  The effect man-wards is entirely secondary.

But even that is not all.  Unless there is a primary effect God-wards (unless, indeed, there is a necessity that remission be grounded in equity) the secondary ideas lose all their force.  The cross demonstrates neither the divine love nor the divine justice unless it was, first of all, necessary.  In themselves, Martin argues, these theories are `airy nothings'.  They derive all their truth, reality and power from just that old doctrine which they malign and subvert.  When their advocates reject the doctrine that Christ died as an indispensable expiatory and propitiatory sacrifice they are rejecting the very foundation on which their own theories stand:  `As if sunbeams should deride the sun!'

Now, tolle, lege. Go and read it.

This article was prepared as an Introduction to a new edition of Martin’s classic work on The Atonement, published by Reformed Academic Press, P O Box 8599, Greenville, South Carolina 29604, USA, 1997