invited to 'supply' London pulpits. The select church-goers are not partial to discourses of such a nature, and I doubt if he will get another invitation. His prospects have been blighted by this day's work; for, in depriving his hearers of the consolation of thinking themselves to be charitable when they give a few shillings to the poor, he has beggared their exchequer of good works, and, following the rule, they will hate him accordingly. But on Sunday we are to hear the man we have missed to-day, and then, in the evening, we shall hear the great Dissenting minister; so that, although highly delighted with this specimen of modern preachers, I am in hopes we shall hear a discourse equally or even more satisfactory."

The following day was devoted to the sights to which country cousins are always directed, but on the Sunday morning they were early at the church where the popular man was to be heard.

It was full to overflowing, and the congregation was evidently wealthy. Such a magnificent show of bonnets and satins had not been got together without an "immense expenditure;" and they who wore them were proud of their costly burdens. Lester had heard that it was a fashionably-attended church," but was not prepared for such a glorious show of millinery and costly jewel-work. During the time that elapsed between their entrance and the beginning of the service, he was calculating the probable per centage of pious persons who were present; not that, as a rule, he was either morose or given to depreciation, but the arrogant airs of many compelled him to question their religious sincerity. A noble-looking couple swept down the aisles, followed by a liveried attendant, bearing their gold and morocco-bound books; they had come to stand before their God, and, while declaring themselves to be miserable sinners, to declare that, before the Everlasting, all men were equal, but it was impossible to witness the air of insolent hauteur with which they treated their lacquey, without feeling that pride of wealth and rank was their all-engrossing passion. They were content with confessing their sins, and seemed to be in no humour for abandoning the greatest of all.

Lester felt sick at heart, as the conviction gradually stole over him that he was taking part in a mere show, nor could he avoid thinking it a sad mockery of worship when so much dressing and embellishing was considered necessary to its perfection. He thought of his own quiet church, which, with all its drawbacks, was, at least, attended by scores who laboured to live in love with both God and man-people who came to the service with some portion of humility, and who moved through the church with a degree of reverential awe.

A buzz of admiration ran through the congregation when the favourite ascended the reading-desk, for all loved to hear him read. Neither could they avoid admiring his elegant appearance, especially his piercing black eyes, which, in their glances, said more than volumes would contain. He was well got up for the occasion-completely dressed for the part which none knew better how to perform. It was quite natural for him to be a favourite reader, for the entire performance was complete as a work of art. The reader had carefully studied every point, and knew where the hits were to be made. His reading of the Ten Commandments was especially fine, and the contempt thrown into the last word of the sixth,- "Thou shalt not steal," was unequalled. So, also, was his reading of the Old Testament Lesson; for, instead of being merely run through at the schoolboy rate, so common in our churches, it was delivered with startling effect, so much so that it appeared as if the whole scene were being played before the auditors. But, withal, it was impossible to avoid feeling that, when even the best had been said, it

-

was but a play. The feeling was theatrical; the passion, so finely pourtrayed, was of the boards; and it occurred to the minds of many besides the two friends that he who played the leading part had mistaken his vocation.

This was rendered even more clear when he was preaching the sermon; for, from beginning to end, it was a gross plagiarism: it was splendidly recited or declaimed, but it was stolen. The subject was of that class that are sufficiently thrilling to stir the hearts, and inspire with cloquence, the poorest of preachers-it was a sort of funereal discourse upon Sir Henry Havelock, the sad news of whose death-death almost in the arms of victory —had just reached our shores, and they who maintained alive in their hearts the love of patience, perseverance, and unconquerable firmness of purpose; they who knew his pure character, who admired his moral greatness, equally with his noble valour as a soldier, naturally expected that the clergy would perform their parts in doing full honour to his memory by pouring forth discourses which would fairly embody admiration of his life's labours, comjoined with our national sorrow for a loss, in every sense, so lamentable. In that church, too, notwithstanding the rank, pride, and hollowness of heart, collected together, there were men and women who were really anxious to hear a generous lament for the dead, and, to some extent, they were not disappointed. Still, the sermon was powerless, for it lacked fire and nobleness of purpose. There was no heart in the matter. It was a compound of beautiful thoughts, of exquisite similes, and of generous sentiments, all of which were beautifully wrought; but without one grain of that material which would have made it subdue all hearts. Like a glittering iceberg, or a travelling waterspout, it was very grand to contemplate, but not to come in contact with. It pleased the artistic taste, but failed with the heart; so that, when Lester was out in the street again, and was endeavouring to describe his feelings, he said, “I have been highly pleased, and intensely disgusted," but it would be impossible to say which feeling predominated.

"And I," said Barrington, "have been both amused and astonished. The man is a fine actor, but, like all who merely perform a part, he depends solely upon others to supply him with the materials of which he stands in need. That sermon has been stolen from the works of Orville Dewey, an American Unitarian preacher. In his volume, it is called Voices of the Dead, -that is the name of the discourse, which is a marvellously beautiful and thoughtful one; and this great popular pulpitteer has actually taken entire paragraphs, with all the finest ideas, out of others, to make up his Havelock oration.* That is what I call downright thieving; but the chief members of his congregation are not likely to find him out, and so, for a time, he will go on to play his part, and win others over to acting as he is doing. He denounces the Unitarians, but steals their sermons.".

"And this," said Lester, "is what is called great preaching-popular pulpit oratory! I have before heard that he has largely used, or, in fact, that he has dished up many passages out of the, so-called, Infidel work,' known as Greg's Creed of Christendom; ' now I find him stealing the thoughts, and nearly all the discourse, of a Socinian. Surely there must be some delusion in this matter."

Lester spoke like a man who has lost all guidance, but, recovering himself, he observed that the popular man they were to hear in the evening would doubtless compensate them for their annoyance and loss of time. This was

*He has since published it in the three-volume edition of his sermons, and in that he gives it as his own, without any allusiou to Dewey. (Printer's Devil.)

the hope which filled his breast, while pushing his way through the full thoroughfares towards a bridge, over which the friends passed, in search of the Great New Light.

When, after a deal of enquiring and losing their way, these two at length entered the crowded chapel, the preacher had already given out his text, and was advancing rapidly with his exordium, the style and language of which struck Lester as being particularly loose and coarse, almost profane. It was marked by a curious mingling of that species of low jesting buffoonery, so commonly exhibited in front of the strolling players' booths, erected in a country fair, with sentences culled from the sermons of Puritan Divines, the authors of which would be strangely moved, were they to return to earth, to find their best thoughts married to such disgusting witticisms. As the preacher advanced with his subject, he launched out against "those milk and water ministers who are afraid to talk about hell and brimstone in their pulpits." He was subject to no such weakness, but felt proud of maintaining that hell with its never-dying fires, and heaven, with its never-cloying sweets," were great realities, the latter of which would be his portion. In the second section of his discourse, he declared that his place in heaven was perfectly secure, and he went on to say: See, you miserable sinner, see! here stands a redeemed, saved, glorified man; see, and vainly will you gnash your teeth. . . . Soon this voice will never be strained again; soon these lungs will never have to exert themselves beyond their power; soon this brain shall not be racked for thought; but I shall sit at the banquet table of God-yea I shall recline on the bosom of Abraham, and be at ease for ever

rr

"I to the end shall endure,

As sure as the earnest is given :
More happy but not more secure,

Are the glorified spirits in heaven."

At this point, pale and agitated, Lester started up, motioning Barrington to leave the place, but it was not until they were near the door that he assigned his reason for this rapid movement; the impossibility of his sitting to listen to a man who so arrogantly presumed to be in the secrets of heaven. "I feel," he continued, "that he is either a great hypocrite or one of the most unfeeling wretches to be found upon the face of the earth. If there be the hell which he speaks of, and if it be true that millions of our fellow men will be confined in its everlasting fires, then the fact is so fearful that no man of feeling could allude to it without being overwhelmed with tears. If we knew that in yonder house there were human beings burning to death, not only would the knowledge wring our hearts, but it would compel us to risk our lives in order to save theirs. We could not hear them shrieking for assistance, and not lend it; I verily believe that the memory of their piteous cries would never be absent from our memories. But this man speaks of eternal burning' in the rollicking spirit of a jester-he actually makes a mock of damnation, and flings his jokes at the head of the condemned. Surely, but perhaps unconsciously, he is either playing a part, or he is more unfeeling than the rudest navigator who ever carried a spade. And then, too, his talk about his place in heaven.'"

"Heaven," said Barrington, "why how could there be any pleasure if such a fellow were there? To himself there can be no heaven, for his eternity will be spent in sorrowing over the fact that there is no hell of fire to receive those whom he has so unceremoniously doomed. His mind is of the

lowest sensual type; for he has no conception of pain which is not physical, or of pleasure which does not appeal to the senses. And the worst hell I can think of is the being doomed to spend an eternity with him as a companion. A beggar on horseback is an old figure, but this is a theological beggar riding a worn-out idea, and he knows neither his own weakness nor the absurdity of which he is guilty. I cannot conceive the popular heaven and hell; for the great body of believers say that Henry the Eighth, Charles the First, and the Mannings, as men who died in the faith, will be in this place of bliss, while Shakspere, as the unregenerate play actor,' Priestly, as the 'Socinian unbeliever,' and Shelley, as the Atheistic poet,' are to be in the place of torment. They send all the best company into the worst places, and preserve all those who have double chins, cracked voices, and no poetry in their souls, for the place of bliss."

Walking and talking they reached a large open space, wherein was gathered several groups of men and women, all of whom were listening to speakers, who, in the centre of each group, were discussing religious topics, and preaching their own peculiar doctrines. At first they paused to hear a Catholic arguing with a Protestant about transubstantiation, and the latter was vehemently maintaining that as the doctrine was against reason it ought not to be believed. In the next group a Bible Christian was debating with an Irishman, who, either in fun, or because he had adopted the faith of Mahomet, was defending the Koran. The former had read Sale's translation, and was particularly dexterous in selecting questionable passages, but the Irishman always hit upon some passage in the Old Testament equally questionable, and argued that if he was to be led by his reason to reject one he must reject both, which the Bible Christian very illogically denied. In the next group a man was preaching about the end of the world, which he had fixed to happen within a few months; they who stood to listen were evidently amused, and burst into a roar of laughter, when a costermonger taking a short black pipe from his mouth, said, "There now, old fellow, stand a pint o' dog's-nose, and don't go on in that way; don't, you'll give us the grupps! And, if the world's a round un, round as a turnip, how is you agoin' to find a hend ?" In the next group, a very respectable-looking man was exhorting his hearers to flee from the wrath to come; he was narrating many very old anccdotes of conversions, as if they had occurred under his own ministry; but, while telling the story of a converted navigator, he halted, and fell into contradictions, which called forth some jeerings. Lester was annoyed by the speaker's flippancy, and halfsatisfied that he dealt in white lies, still he was vexed by the noisy jeering of one who stood by his side. Hush," said Lester to him, "pray, Sir, hush. Do the man justice; at least he means well."

"No, he don't," growled the man.

Why, then, does he come here to speak, amid so many difficulties?
Why for a pound a week, o' course,'
"answered the man, "and he

wouldn't
come for any less. I knows all them chaps, and a good thing they
makes of it. The people as pays 'em had better give the money to the poor
folks, for there would be some good got out of it then; but now all we get is
humbug, and a few coals when we pretends to be pious. But they aint goin'
to humbug me."

Lester felt that it was likely there was much truth in this view of the matter, and, without further remark, took his friend's arm, and walked away sadly; wondering much at the specimens he had seen oft he "religious" world of London.

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE REFORMATION.-XLVIII.

INFLUENCE OF THE PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

As we have fully shown in an earlier paper, the first awakening of the European intellect from the long lethargy of ages was owing to the introduction of Aristotle's logic and the growth of Scholasticism. Thus the first dawn of light on Europe, derived from Arab sources, was modified in its expression and development by the Greek intellect. These first feeble rays of light were, however, insufficient wholly to dispel the thick darkness which the Church had brought down on Europe; and Scholasticism was the result of a compromise between theology and reason. The Church baptised Aristotle, and sought to employ logic in proving the unprovable propositions which she imposed upon men as articles of belief. The necessity to do this was, however, in itself, a sign of progress—a sign that at least a show of reason was now demanded for what formerly authority alone had been competent to enforce ; that at least was what must be stated of Scholasticism in its commencement. It was, after all, however, but a show of reason, ," and we have shown that the more earnest and honest minds amongst the men of the Ages of Scholasticism fled from the conclusions of their intellect into a peculiar mysticism, while others, less honestly, sought to compromise matters by setting forth the doctrine that that which was philosophically true might be theologically false.

On the one hand, therefore, there grew up the contest between reason and authority, predisposing all enquiring minds to a reformatory and progressive movement. But, on the other hand, the authority of Aristotle had, under the patronage of the Church, become so powerful as to oppose a limit to enquiry. The result was, that, ere long, the boldest thinkers of the Scholastic cra bent humbly before this, and to doubt or question aught that Aristotle said, or to refuse to accept the logical inferences deduced from his postulates, was a thing which every one, who would not be accounted an atheist or a madman, looked upon as, or at least acknowledged to be, impossible. Scholasticism was therefore only a preparatory stage in the progress of thought; there was a limit beyond which it could not pass. In order, therefore, to open the way for further progress, and to prepare a wider field for the exercise of the human intellect, it was necessary that men's minds should be liberated from the fetters which Aristotle's authority had placed upon them. This was the service rendered to mankind by the Revival of the Platonic Philosophy. By dividing the attention of the learned, this new philosophy deprived the doctrines of Aristotle of that servile respect and veneration which had so long been paid to them; and by introducing the discussion of new subjects, it prepared the way for the pursuit of truths more properly within the sphere of the human intellect. Thus the introduction of the Platonic doctrines became of essential service to the cause of free enquiry and substantial knowledge.*

It was, however, in its influence on the grave and thoughtful mind of Germany, that the Platonic Philosophy produced its widest, most lasting, and most beneficial effects, not alone on the intellectual pursuits, but also on the manners and morals of the age. This consideration leads us to a matter to which it is necessary to draw our readers' attention—the different spirit of the Germans and the Italians in the cultivation of the ancient philosophy, and the consequently different results produced in their several countries by the *See, on this subject, Roscoe, Life of Lorenzo de' Med., chaps. i. and vii.