day, was called republicanism, and which, even more than royalism itself, is the direct antipode of modern jacobinism. Taylor, as more and more sceptical concerning the fitness of men in general for power, became more and more attached to the prerogatives of monarchy. From Calvinism with a still decreasing respect for Fathers, Councils, and for Church-Antiquity in general, Milton seems to have ended in an indifference, if not a dislike, to all forms of ecclesiastic government, and to have retreated wholly into the inward and spiritual church-communion of his own spirit with the Light, that lighteth every man that cometh into the world. Taylor, with a growing reverence for authority, an increasing sense of the insufficiency of the Scriptures without the aids of tradition and the consent of authorized interpreters, advanced as far in his approaches, (not indeed to Popery, but) to Roman-Catholicism, as a conscientious minister of the English Church could well venture. Milton would be, and would utter the same, to all, on all occasions: he would tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Taylor would become all things to all men, if by any means he might benefit any; hence he availed himself, in his popular writings, of opinions and representations which stand often in striking contrast with the doubts and convictions expressed in his more philosophical works. He appears, indeed, not too severely to have blamed that management of truth (istam falsitatem dispensativam) authorized and exemplified by almost all the fathers: Integrum omnino doctoribus et cœtus Christiani antistitibus esse, ut dolos versent, falsa veris intermisceant et imprimis religionis hostes fallant, dummodo veritatis commodis et utilitati inserviant. The same antithesis might be carried on with the elements of their several intellectual powers. Milton, austere, condensed, imaginative, supporting his truth by direct enunciation of moral lofty sentiment and by distinct visual representations, and in the same spirit overwhelming what he deemed falsehood by moral denunciation and a succession of pictures appalling or repulsive. In his prose, so many metaphors, so many allegorical miniatures. Taylor, eminently discursive, accumulative, and (to use one of his own words) agglomerative; still more rich in images than Milton himself, but images of fancy, and presented to the common and passive eye, rather than to the eye of the imagination. Whether supporting or assailing, he makes his way either by argument or by appeals to the affections, unsurpassed even by the schoolmen in subtlety, agility, and logic wit, and unrivalled by the most rhetorical of the fathers in the copiousness and vividness of his expressions and illustrations. Here words that convey feelings, and words that flash images, and words of abstract notion, flow together and whirl and rush onward like a stream, at once rapid and full of eddies; and yet still interfused here and there, we see a tongue or islet of smooth water, with some picture in it of earth or sky, landscape or living group of quiet beauty. Differing, then, so widely, and almost contrariantly, wherein did these great men agree? wherein did they resemble each other? In genius, in learning, in unfeigned piety, in blameless purity of life, and in benevolent aspirations and purposes for the moral and temporal improvement of their fellow creatures! Both of them wrote a Latin Accidence, to render education less painful to children; both of them composed hymns and psalms proportioned to the capacity of common congregations; both, nearly at the same time, set the glorious example of publicly recommending and supporting general toleration, and the liberty both of the pulpit and the press! In the writings of neither shall we find a single sentence, like those meek deliverances to God's mercy, with which Laud accompanied his votes for the mutilations and loathsome dungeoning of Leighton and others!—no where such a pious prayer as we find in Bishop Hall's memoranda of his own life, concerning a subtle and witty atheist that so grievously perplexed and gravelled him at Sir Robert Drury's till he prayed to the Lord to remove him, and behold! his prayers were heard: for shortly afterward this Philistine-combatant went to London, and there perished of the plague in great misery! In short, no where shall we find the least approach, in the lives and writings of John Milton or Jeremy Taylor, to that guarded gentleness, to that sighing reluctance, with which the holy brethren of the Inquisition deliver over a condemned heretic to the civil magistrate, recommending him to mercy, and hoping that the magistrate will treat the BB erring brother with all possible mildness!—the magistrate, who too well knows what would be his own fate, if be dared offend them by acting on their recommendation. The opportunity of diverting the reader from myself to characters more worthy of his attention, has led me far beyond my first intention; but it is not unimportant to expose the false zeal which has occasioned these attacks on our elder patriots. It has been too much the fashion first to personify the Church of England, and then to speak of different individuals, who in different ages have been rulers in that church, as if in some strange way they constituted its personal identity. Why should a clergyman of the present day feel interested in the defence of Laud or Sheldon? Surely it is sufficient for the warmest partizan of our establishment, that he can assert with truth,-when our Church persecuted, it was on mistaken principles held in common by all Christendom; and at all events, far less culpable was this intolerance in the Bishops, who were maintaining the existing laws, than the persecuting spirit afterwards shown by their successful opponents, who had no such excuse, and who should have been taught mercy by their own sufferings, and wisdom by the utter failure of the experiment in their own case. We can say, that our Church, apostolical in its faith, primitive in its ceremonies, unequalled in its liturgical forms; that our Church, which has kindled and displayed more bright and burning lights of genius and learning, than all other protestant churches since the reformation, was (with the single exception of the times of Laud and Sheldon) least intolerant, when all Christians unhappily deemed a species of intolerance their religious duty; that Bishops of our church were among the first that contended against this error; and finally, that since the reformation, when tolerance became a fashion, the Church of England in a tolerating age, has shown herself eminently tolerant, and far more so, both in spirit and in fact, than many of her most bitter opponents, who profess to deem toleration itself an insult on the rights of mankind! As to myself, who not only know the Church-Establishment to be tolerant, but who see in it the greatest, if not the sole safe bulwark of toleration, I feel no necessity of defending or palliating oppressions under the two Charleses, in order to exclaim with a full and fervent heart, Esto perpetua! 371 NOTES. Note referred to in p. 143. Frederica Brunn's ode, Chamouni at Sun-rise, which appears to have suggested Part of the Hymn before Sun-rise, in the Vale of Chamouni, is given here that the reader may have an opportunity of comparing the two poems. Aus tiefem Schatten des schweigenden Tannenhains Erblick' ich bebend dich, Scheitel der Ewigkeit, Blendender Gipfel, von dessen Höhe Ahndend mein Geist ins unendliche schwebet! Wer senkte den Pfeiler tief in der Erde schooss, Wer goss Euch hoch aus der ewigen Winter's Reich, Wer zeichnet dort dem Morgensterne die Bahn? Jehovah! Jehovah! kracht's im berstenden Eis; Jehovah rauscht's in den hellen Wipfeln, Note referred to in p. 279. The lines of Friedrich Matthisson, forming the commencement of his Milesisches Mührchen, are these: Ein Milesisches Mährchen, Adonide! Unter heiligen Lorbeerwipfeln glänzte Hoch auf ranschendem Vorgebirg' ein Tempel. Im gedüfte der Ferne sich ein Eiland. Oft, in mondlicher Dämmrung, schwebt' ein Nachen Zur umwaldeten Bucht, wo sich ein Steinpfad Und durch Wogen und Dunkel ihn zu leiten, Note referred to in p. 336. The poem of Count Stolberg, of which the Lines on a Cataract are an expansion, is here presented to the reader. Unsterblicher Jüngling! Du strömest hervor Aus der Felsenkluft. Kein sterblicher sah Die Wiege des Starken : Es hörte kein Ohr Das Lallen des Edlen im sprudelnden Quell. Dich kleidet die Sonne In Strahlen des Ruhmes ! Sie mahlet mit Farben des himmlischen Bogens Note referred to in p. 348. Schiller's verses are as follows. DER EPISCHE HEXAMETER. Schwindelnd trägt er dich fort auf rastlos strömenden Wogen; [Meer. Hinter dir siehst du, du siehst vor dir nur Himmel und DAS DISTICHON. Im Hexameter steigt des Spring-quells flüssige Saüle; Note referred to in p. 211. The fourth and last stanzas of Separation are adapted from the twelfth and last of Cotton's Chlorinda. 66 O my Chlorinda! could'st thou see There's such a Mine of Love for thee, "Mean while my Exit now draws nigh, Not half enough to part with thee." The fifth stanza is the eleventh of Cotton's poem. PRINTED BY C. WHITTINGHAM, CHISWICK, |