to spend a few moments in prayer. And when matins or vespers sound, you see them flocking to the church which is nearest the scene of their labour, in the guise and condition in which the summons finds them—the labourer with his frock and his sabots; the maid with her basket or pail placed beside her as she kneels, the mother with her babe at her breast, the child, like Goethe's Margaret, "Halb Kinderspiel, halb Gott im Herzen." There they kneel, while the din of the world, heard faintly without, like the breaking of the distant surf, gives one the feeling of an island of sanctity in a wild, roaring, godless sea; and the solemn aisles and vast spaces, dwarfing the human figure, supply a new and solemn perspective to human life; and the "antique pillars' massy proof," and the plaintive chanting of the priests, and the curling incense, and the sculptured saints and "ever-dying" martyrs, produce an impression of unearthly and eternal reality projected into this mortal, which no other experience awakens in a like degree.

Romanism addresses itself to the sentiments. Not only so, it addresses itself to the senses and the sensuous understanding. Instead of cold abstractions, it gives sensible images; it deals in the concrete, it puts things for words. It does not descant on transubstantiation, but uplifts the consecrated wafer, and bids the people kneel to the præsens numen in the host. It does not discuss the subject of Atonement, but puts a crucifix before them wherever they go, "by the way, in the places of the paths." It does not argue the question of intercession, but points them to the Virgin. It does not philosophize on the efficacy of prayer, but puts a string of beads in their hands, and tells them, so many Aves for this thing, and so many PaterNosters for that. It is also greatly indebted for its influence to establishing an intimate relation with the whole of life. It does not dismiss its disciples at the door of the church, but follows them to their homes with its ordinances and its sacraments. At home and abroad its eye is upon them, its banner is over them, its symbols attend them. These are its elements of power.

"THERE are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in "thy philosophy." So says the poetical, sensitive, Hamlet to the matter-of-fact Horatio. And, indeed, there are more things in earth, at least, than the philosophy of many others than Horatio can in any wise explain. Here is Mr. Brown, a man of excellent judgment in trade, knows when to buy and when to sell, obeys to the letter the politico-economical maxim about buying in the cheapest, and selling in the dearest, market; he never made a wrong entry in his ledger in his life, and, as a business man, is perfection itself. Now for all this we blame not Mr. Brown; on the contrary, we esteem Mr. Brown a very "respectable" person. In his sphere Brown is an excellent man, but neither is the highest excellence his, nor does his sphere comprehend the entire of Life's Philosophy. Such men have a pat little theory of life which is fitting and suitable for their little souls; but then, unfortunately, they are too apt to drag this little theory of theirs about with them, and every man who is too long or too short, too high or too low, for this, their standard, is set down as a fool, a fanatic, a rogue, or something of that sort. This is a thing which cannot be too much condemned, seeing that so many amongst us are led by men of the Brown stamp; these "practical men, so called, being too apt to thrust themselves and their opinions impudently forward. So it is that many a noble heart has been broken, many a grand soul misunderstood, many a man, who should have stood a hero to his time and to posterity, been reviled as a fanatic or a knave, J. L. G.

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE REFORMATION.-XL.

SAVONAROLA.

ACCORDING to some men's views of Religion, it is a thing which has nothing whatever to do with this world. Their teaching is that politics, science, education, and other matters pertaining to various spheres of thought and action among men, are to be viewed as things altogether, if not alien to, at least quite apart from, Religion. The doctrine we believe and teach is exactly opposed to this. We believe that Religion is intended to sanctify and elevate all the pursuits of men. We do not believe that to be Religion which divorces itself from human life as a whole. The Religion we would have men accept while it directs the soul upward to God, while it points men to a blessed Hereafter-does not ignore their duties as men and citizens. We would teach such a Religion as will make men better citizens, better fathers, better, in short, in all the relations of life, than without it they can possibly be. An altogether different Religion, in fact, to that taught in the Churches and Chapels, where the object is not to teach men how to do their duty in this world, but to keep their minds bent upon what are called "spiritual "things," in which, rightly considered, there is very little spirituality. We would create a Church of the Future which shall effect what the Churches of the Past and Present have entirely failed to effect-a real elevation of humanity to that position which belongs to it of right, and for which God designed it.

Jerome Savonarola, above all others among the Reformers of the Past, was cognisant of the truth that Religion has to do with this world as well as the next, and, both in word and action, taught men that the political and everyday affairs of men have a religious side to them. We shall see, in looking at his life, that he was a man above creeds, whose religion was one of action, and who believed that the best way of getting to Heaven was by performing God's laws here on Earth. It is in this respect that the Protestant Churches have been greater failures than in any other, having occupied themselves with miserable theological quibbles, and not with the life of the people, or the means of progress for man. The old Church did to some extent, and still does, enter into the everyday life of those in communion with it; herein, indeed, lies the strength of Roman Catholicism-this is the secret of its power over those who are sufficiently ignorant to accept its false teachings, or willing to submit themselves to the intellectual slavery it enforces. Let us recognise the fact, however, and not be so unjust as to deny that Roman Catholicism had some truth mixed with its many errors. Let us accept the truth which it, in common with all that has been widely accepted at any time, has for us, and make it part of a nobler religious system; always remembering this, too, that no Church can ever be strong which ignores the claims of humanity in its common and everyday relations.

On the 21st September, 1452, Savonarola was born in the City of Ferrara. Looking back through 400 years into that city of splendour, luxury, and vice, we may realize, dimly though it be, somewhat of the strange world into which he had come; and of the equally strange home. The father of him, Nicolo, was a gay, reckless, spendthrift courtier,-a hanger-on in the Ducal Palace of Ferrara,—a strange father for such a son; his mother was one of those gentle, loving, pure-souled women, whom we sometimes find allied to men like Nicolo, who, while he loved her, was continually outraging her feelings and her tastes. Early was the boy Jerome thus brought into contact with

influences which were to affect his strong soul with enduring hate of a world which had led his father astray. We can see the young Jerome gazing pityingly on the mother whom he loved so much, as she wept scalding tears at her husband's sins and folly. There gradually grew up in the mind of the boy au intense hate for the servility and lasciviousness of the world around him; and he gladly turned away from the festivals and pageants, and the poisonous atmosphere of the Court, to the kindly counsels of his mother.

Nor must we forget, among the influences which went to form the character of the young Jerome, the company and conversation of the fine old man, his grandfather, who held the office of physician in the Ducal Court, and at whose house he spent most part of his time until he was ten years of age, and by whom the young Jerome was early initiated into much abstruse learning. It is probable that the difficulties into which the extravagance of the father had brought him and his family, led to the grandfather taking charge of the young Jerome. The death of the good old man threw a deep gloom over the earnest soul of the boy, and in the life within himself, which for some years he was thereby forced to live, we must look for the source of the stern and somewhat gloomy character of the man. Once only was he roused, and that was at the call of young love. A fair young neighbour, a daughter of the "noble" house of Strozzi, had long been watched and loved by him; but " never could a Strozzi match with a Savonarola," such was the indignant answer she returned to his suit. If we blame her pride, we cannot blame her prudence; for the younger son of a half-ruined hanger-on at the Court of the Ferrarese Duke was indeed no likely match. With a bitter smile, Savonarola flung away his youthful fancy. It should be remembered, however, that such things leave their mark on the lives of such as he. Love had for a moment thrown a false halo round the world in which he lived, and mayhap, if she on whom he had looked and loved had been a kindred soul, if she had returned his love, a different fate in life would have been his; he might have been content, as many others were in that evil time, to find within his own domestic circle escape from the pollution of the outer world. Savonarola was not the man to love twice in his life; with the loss of his first love all the deep passion he had felt was thrust back into the depths of his soul, and he thus early learnt the lesson how to bear. For one whole year he sought to do this in the face of the world; silently pursuing his medical studies, and seldom speaking; mixing in the gay circles who assembled at his father's house, only as a silent spectator; and avoiding all places of public resort.

Outwardly calm and contemplative, the stream of his life flowed on; but, as he himself has left on record, that was a year of unequalled suffering which followed the destruction of his young hopes. His mother, gentle and tender, could sympathise with his sorrow, but she was incapable of understanding the struggle that was now passing in the gloomy depths of that strong young soul. Domestic griefs she could understand, but her mental vision was all too narrow to comprehend the feelings with which her son looked upon that world "all upside down," in which every "virtue and fair usage was spent and overthrown," and in which "no living light" could be found: and in bitter and solitary musings, finding vent now and then in rough and trenchant rhymes, young Jerome found his only relief. No light dawned upon his soul; he knew not as yet the mission which future years had in store for him, and so got to believe that the only thing left for him to do was to fly from the pollution and the wickedness. Long he struggled against this, but was at length determined by the preaching of an Augustinian monk.

It is the evening of the 23rd April, 1475. Savonarola has come to the determination to enter the cloister. He and his mother are sitting alone, occupied with their thoughts; till now he has not known all that he would feel at leaving her who had loved him as only mothers can love. Nor can he bring himself now to break the matter to her. He takes up his lute and plays, but, as if his spirit spoke in the music, so mournful is it, that his mother turns and says, "My son, this is a sign of parting." He answered her not, but continued playing in a different key; and full at heart, presently bade her good night. The mother's forebodings were prophetic; she never saw him more. The next day, being now twenty-three years old, he entered the Dominican Convent at Bologna, to perform his noviciate.

In the silent watches of the night he had left his home, and began his lonely journey on foot. In a letter to his father he excused himself for thus hastily leaving the paternal roof. "The reasons," he says, "which induce me "to become a monk are these, the great wretchedness of the world, the iniquity "of men, the violence, the adultery, the theft, the pride, the idolatry, the hateful blasphemy, into which this age has fallen, so that one can no longer "find a righteous man; and because I cannot endure seeing virtue extinct "and ruined, and vice triumphant." He had fled from the wickedness of the outer world, only to find as bad, or worse, in the cloisters to which he went. With a melancholy satisfaction he had contemplated a life of peace and fellowship with religious souls, and it is easy to imagine the wrath which took possession of the earnest spirit of this man when he found that the monkish garb was but a cloak for sensuality and vice of the worst kind. As a layman he had been accustomed to look with reverence upon the priesthood, and, although it is unlikely that he knew not that there was some vice amongst them, yet he believed that there was much of goodness. But now all illusions of the kind vanished, and, in the bitterness of his heart, he was wont to say, "Would you have your son a wicked man make him a priest. how much poison will he swallow!"

Oh,

As yet, however, Savonarola is not prepared to commence the work of a Reformer. He laments the condition of the Church polluted with all vices. "But to denounce her condition," he thinks, "is only to excite fruitless "enmity." "Nothing remains," he sadly says, "but to lament silently, and "to hold fast the hope of a better future." The spirit of the active Reformer has yet to be born within him. Seven long years of sorrow and doubt have to be passed through ere the thought has shaped itself clearly to his soul, that he must work, as well as hope, for a better future. Shall we wonder at this delay? We shall not, if we are among those who have been called upon to cast away our childhood's faith at the imperative call of riper knowledge and wiser views. In the gentle mother's teachings this man had gained an altogether false estimate of what the Church was. He had believed that in the monastery he would find an oasis in the desert of a wicked world. And when doubts entered his soul he long hoped against hope ere he allowed them to resolve themselves into certainties. Nor, when he fully recognized the facts as they were, was it at all easy for him to settle for himself the best course to be pursued. There was good reason, too, for his fear that he might excite "fruitless enmity."

An outraged moral sense had driven Savonarola from the world, and an outraged moral sense led to his denunciations of the priesthood. There was very little of the speculative theologian in this man, and based upon morality, as the Reform he attempted was, it necessarily spoke to wide sympathies,

and led him to direct his efforts to alter and improve the state of Society as well as that of the Church. He cannot properly be called an opponent of the Church; he sought rather to recall it to a sense of what he conceived to be its duty. His earliest work was to denounce the corruptions he saw around him, and call forth the religious emotions of men in aid of a moral reform; afterwards as his views widened, extending his efforts as a religious teacher to an amelioration of the political condition of his countrymen, he ever preached duties rather than doctrines. 'We worship God," he used to say,

only to honour Him, but to obtain from Him our happiness. A good life being a better way of obtaining blessedness than sacrifices and ceremonies, we must allow that a good life is much more true worship than exterior "worship." This man's religion was a practical religion, and in that respect differed no less from the orthodoxy of to-day than it did from the superstitions accepted as religion in his own day.

If we were dealing with Savonarola in a polemical spirit, we should doubtless have to object to much of his doctrinal belief; but let us rather recognise the mighty truth he taught, one no less necessary to be learnt in these days than in his own, namely, that true religion, a real worship of the Great Father, consists not in forms, and ceremonies, and doctrinal beliefs, but a noble life, a daily performance of duty. If Savonarola doubted any of the Church's doctrinal teaching, he doubted much more its value as a moral agent among men; and so was content to concentrate his attention upon the practical view of religion. He might, in common with many other equally honest men, honestly believe the dogmas and speculative teachings of the Church to be true; but he could not shut his eyes to the fact that its practice had sadly degenerated from righteousness and morality. If he saw not, as we see, the close connection between the theological teachings and the immoral practice, let us not, therefore, blame him, but remember that there are but few, even in the present day, who have opened their eyes to the same truth. Would that we could have a few of the men of the Savonarola stamp in our pulpits now -men who would be content to teach a practical religion and leave doctrines alone! If they at least did not all the good it is possible to do, they would abstain from doing much evil. How Savonarola sped in his work as a Reformer, we shall see next week. JAS. L. GOODING.

THE BASSAVA PURANA.

THE Bassava Purana is in seven books, containing (in the original Telugu dwipada) 12,600 lines; it is an evident imitation, in some points, of the Brahminical Puranas; for instance, the introduction declares that to pronounce the three syllables Ba-sa-va, and the syllables Gu-ru, is a means of obtaining heaven; and that faith (blacti) is the great foundation of good. The book purports to be a series of legends regarding various devotees (bhactulu), or zealots, who attained faith; and details the miracles performed by these "worthies." These (in imitation of the Brahminical mode) are narrated by the god Siva to his wife Parvati and the sage Narada. The book opens with homage paid by Siva to Bassava, who is declared to be an incarnation of Nandi (the Apis, or Sacred bull); and a few of the latter legends are concerning his confessor (Guru) Basavesa, closing with his death; but the greater number of the stories have nothing to do with Bassava, and merely describe the devotions of various saints, who lived in ages previous to his