I am a huge latecomer to Jane Austen. Honestly, I doubt I would have appreciated her if I’d even made an effort a decade ago. I am very glad to have finally joined the party, however. Having recently at last read Emma, I have been returning repeatedly to one particular remark from the eponymous heroine. At this point in the novel, various characters are gossipping about Frank Churchill, a handsome newcomer to the local circles of high society in Highbury, who has seemingly indulged in the extravagance of traveling miles from Surrey to London solely to get a haircut. Emma, however, imagines herself to be attracted to Frank because he ticks all her high society boxes. And so, she mounts a contorted defense of his actions: “I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.” This final sentence is true enough of course, in its way. Wisdom, as any student of Proverbs knows, is discerning the differences between those times when you should not answer a fool according to his folly, lest you be just like him (Prov. 26:4) and when you should answer him according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes (26:5). (It seems likely to me that Austen, a clergyman’s daughter, had these verses in mind when she put the above words in Emma Woodhouses’s mouth).

There are many layers to Emma’s comment, for those who know how the novel pans out. But the chief irony is that all Emma is doing is justifying her own folly of convincing herself she is attracted to Frank. So while it is true that “folly is not always folly”, it is also true that some of the quickest to point this out are those with a rather vested interest in foolishness.

In a complicated world, many today are clamoring for wisdom. There is no shortage of guides willing to offer it. Yet so often, it is folly dressed as wisdom, cunningly disguised because it is “done by sensible people in an impudent way.” It seems especially insightful that Austen highlights Frank Churchill’s apparent “impudence” as convincing Emma further of her justification. Both folly and wickedness can hide in plain sight this way. If someone does something outrageous but does so with boldness, in plain sight, thumbing their nose at convention but giving it a reassuring wink in the same moment, then we tell ourselves that surely it cannot really be so foolish or so wicked. They wouldn’t dare, would they? Confidence, indifference to appearances, and a touch of panache go a long way in convincing people that folly is not always folly.

At the Davenant Institute, we have long been committed to Christian wisdom, specifically that of the classical Protestant tradition. It is our hope that all we do—our classes at Davenant Hall, our books at the Davenant Press, and our articles here at Ad Fontes—embody this pursuit of wisdom, and that none of it ever tries to justify folly when it truly is folly.

To that end, I am thrilled once again to draw together a diverse set of essays and reviews from within the Davenant Army of Friends. First, Nathan Tarr studies how two great Protestant preachers, John Cotton and George Herbert, reflected theologically on the nature of color, and finds surprising similarities between the two despite their differing traditions. Jemimah Wilson then considers a neglected area in Christian ethical thinking regarding IVF, an issue that has become a surprising occasional flashpoint in the US presidential election. Jeremy Larson then examines how an often overlooked poem of John Milton’s speaks into the never ending conversation about disenchantment. Finally, Steven Wedgeworth makes some surprising discoveries when he investigates Thomas Aquinas’s thoughts on the immaculate conception of Mary. Then, in our reviews, E.J. Hutchinson, with characteristic adroitness, engages with a recent study of Philip Melanchthon’s interest in Homer, adding his own fine-grained scholarly observations to the book’s arguments. S. Mark Hamilton then reviews a recent collection of essays which apply the methods of analytic theology to the task of understanding prayer. Finally, our President Emeritus, Brad Littlejohn, reviews a recent introduction to natural law, placing it in the context of the recent Protestant retrieval of the doctrine, in which the Davenant Institute has played no small part. And, as ever, we have original poetry to enjoy and meditate upon, with two spiritually rich sonnets by John Perryman.

This Summer 2024 print edition has come to you somewhat late again, for which you have my editorial apologies. I hope that, as autumn sets in in earnest, being reminded of summer is a pleasure rather than a pain.

Rhys Laverty
Senior Editor

*Image Credit: “”Having his hair cut”, George Allen, Wikimedia Commons