"Your Lordship will doubtless recognize the following evidence given before a Committee of the House of Commons, 27th July, 1832 : "Can your Lordship state to the Committee, what proportion of church-room has been provided by the State during the last ten years?-I believe the churchroom provided by the State (in England] during the last ten years, is nearly 200,000 additional sittings. "Is your Lordship aware, what proportion such increase of church-room bears to the increased popu. lation of the country?-No, I cannot [say]; it is very easily ascertained. "It being perfectly clear, however, that the population has within the last ten years increased greatly more than 200,000, and to the extent probably of ten times that amount, the increase [of church-room] provided by the State bears a very inadequate proportion to the parts of such people?-The increase of accommodation provided by the Parliamentary grant, I conceive, did not sufficiently supply the wants of the existing population. I conceive, that little or no provision has been made for the wants of the population which has arisen since the last two censuses.' "And what does this prove, my Lord? Let us return again to your Lordship's own diocese, as presented by your Lordship's own evidence : "Has your Lordship ever instituted a comparison between the gross population of your diocese, in connexion with the Established Church, and the amount of the space in the Established Churches?—Yes. I could not, not having the document with me, state it correctly. "The question would be sufficiently answered by the present impression on your Lordship's memory, as to the proportion of the population, which could be accommodated by the present space?-Not a tenth, certainly, &c. "Is it your Lordship's opinion, ...... that the observance of the Lord's day is more, or less strict, now, than it was two or three generations ago?... I fear, that with regard to the great mass of the lower orders, there has been a sad deterioration, very mainly owing to the increased facilities of intemperance. "The lowering of the price of gin took place only a few years ago; does your Lordship date the demoralization of the lower classes only from that period? -I date a most frightful increase from that period. Between the time I first took the church of Bishops. gate in London, and the time when I left it, the increase of intemperance was most frightful. I never saw, when I first came to London, a female coming out of a gin-shop; but I have since repeatedly seen females with infants in their arms, to which they appeared to have been giving some part of their liquor! I almost think I have seen more women than men coming out of these shops!' "You see, my Lord, what may be proved by insulated scraps of evidence. I might go on to fright the isle from its propriety;' but this, peradventure, is enough for my purpose. Bad as America is, she is growing better. I need say nothing of the compa rative condition and prospects of England. Let her own authorities make the disclosure."-p. 15 to 18. In recapitulating at the close of his pamphlet, Mr. Colton puts this comparison still more forcibly :· "But, my Lord," says he, "it is not enough, in the consideration of this subject, to look merely at the comparative number of ministers, actually at work, and to estimate the amount of their labours, and the degrees of their influence; but the peculiar difficulties, under which America has laboured, as a new country, and with a population doubling every twenty-five years, are also to be taken into the account. And yet, with all these disadvantages to "Bishop of London's evidence." struggle with, it would appear, not only, that she is far better supplied than England, in proportion to them population; but her supply of ministers has gained and still gains upon the increase of population, while that of England is going backwards, the Establishment alone being considered. Your Lordship's own evidence, as quoted in Section I., decides this question I conceive, that little or no prevision has been made for the wants of the population, which has arisen since the last two censuses.' "London and its adjacent boroughs contain 194 places of worship, belonging to the Establishment, with a population of 1,500,000. Your Lordship has given in evidence, that not one-tenth' of the people are provided for. And how much less than one-tenth › New York has a population of 220,000, and 101 churches-one church to 1,200 souls. Boston has 50 churches to 60,000; and other large cities in America are equally well supplied; many of them better. "There are in the United States, excluding the Roman Catholics and all other sects not commonly esteemed orthodox, 1.601,088 communicants at the Lord's table, by the latest authentic reports I have been able to obtain, some of which are two or three years old, and none less than one year. There are also some orthodox denominations not reported. I have observed, that the annual increase of commu nicants in American churches of late, taking into view the different sects, rauges from one-fourth to one-tenth of the gross amount; and that the greatest proportionate increase is in the most numerous deaominations. Taking these facts into consideration, I have supposed the present number of comma nicants in the American orthodox churches cannot be less than 1,800,000. In those denominations, com prehending the great bulk of these communicants, the terms of admission to the Lord's supper are a strict examination, as to personal piety, and a public profession of religion. Generally, so far as I have been able to observe, the terms of admittance to this ordinance in America, are much more strict than in the corresponding denominations in Great Britain. In the Church of England, if I do not mistake, ail are admitted to this sacrament, who are of respectable character. And yet it appears by a sufficient amount of evidence from a high quarter of the Church of England, that the number of communi. cants throughout the English Establishment, does not exceed 350,000. Taking the population of England at 12,000,000, there is about one communicant in the Church to every 34 of the gross population. Deduct ing 800,000 for the Roman Catholics in America, and taking the remainder of the population at 12,000,000, the same as in England, the number of commati cants at the Lord's table will be more than one of every 7 individuals. I confess, that I am altogether surprised at this result; and yet I do not know how to make it different. "As to morals, it would appear by your Lordship's recorded evidence given before a Committee of the House of Commons, that intemperance and Sabbathbreaking have increased most fearfully in the land, as well as in London; and along with this, it may fairly be inferred, that there has been a corresponding deterioration of public morals. I perceive by a very fair calculation in a Temperance Tract, that the various annual costs of intemperance to the United Kingdom, are equal to the entire revenue of the em pire for the time being. In America, within the last six years, there have been formed 6,000 Temperance Societies, embracing 1,000,000 of members; 2,000 distilleries have ceased; 5,000 tradesmen have discontinued dealing in ardent spirits; 700 vessels sail from American ports without it; 5,000 of the intemperate have been reclaimed and the influence of the temperance reformation on the community for the improvement of morals, and in other beneficial respects, is obvious and vast. Fict thousand intemperate reformed! Dr. Benjamin Rush, f Philadelphia, used to say, that, in all his experience and observation, he never knew one drunkard reformd!"-p. 57 to 59. We hope we need not apologize for the ength of these quotations. We plead their ast importance. We are happy to hear hat every member of the British legislature s provided with a copy of this pamphlet. We strongly urge its perusal on all our eaders. It is by far the most efficient publication we have ever met with on the subject. Its statements are almost all founded on the incontrovertible testimony of public documents; and the personal statements and opinions which it contains, come from a writer of vast information and unimpeachable integrity. REVIEW.-Prose Works of John Milton. Edited by R. Fletcher. Westley and Davis. London. 1834. (Concluded from p. 90.) Two notices, in successive numbers, having been already devoted to the consideration of the above work, we are unwillingly compelled, although much remains uncommented upon, to pass towards a conclusion of our necessarily limited and imperfect review. We have already endeavoured to ascertain with what justice the praise of pure and disinterested patriotism, as well as the Christian qualities of patience and forbearance towards an opponent, are to be ascribed to the author of the Paradise Lost. We now proceed to a far more serious charge, and, without the slightest hesitation, assert, in opposition to Mr. Fletcher's eulogium upon the moral purity of Milton's thought and diction, that more palpable and undisguised obscenity is scarcely to be found in any writer of the most profligate character, than has been at times enlisted by the above author, as a supplementary aid to his caustic and implacable spirit of controversial hatred. It was at first our intention to adduce passages in support of this assertion; but these, we are inclined to believe, will very readily be dispensed with, since, even under the veil of a learned language, we consider them too revolting to encounter the public eye. As a reasonably strong evidence, however, that we utter nothing but the truth, we may observe, that the English translators of the second Defence and Answer to Alexander More, (men by no means likely, if we may judge by the general tenor of their style, to lose the point of a sentence by an over-scrupulous attention to its delicacy of sentiment or expression,) have either passed over entirely several passages in these two treatises, or rendered them by any thing but a literal translation. At this, Mr. Fletcher waxes exceeding wroth, and, in that true spirit of servile idolatry which of its worship, is indignant that John can see nothing but perfection in the object Milton should not be suffered to be as obscene in English as in Latin. He complains, accordingly, that the translation of and idiomatic, to entitle it to the character Robert Fellowes is not sufficiently close of a perfect one; and to leave us in no doubt as to the sentiments he himself entertains with respect to the highly finished composition in question, he informs us, in his preface, that the second Defence, although more sober, is not one jot less powerful than the first, and that it is certainly more entertaining. "Macte puer virtute!" If Mr. Fletcher can really find entertainment from the perusal of such a tissue of low scurrility and uncleanness, we give him our disinterested advice, for the sake of his own reputation, at least, to keep his feelings of satisfaction from the ears of the public. We venture to promise that he will lose nothing by their suppression. It is hardly necessary, especially since the principles of the work are so well known, to go through the sophistry which distinguishes the Tetrachordon of Milton. The whole treatise is a proof how far his obedience to the Gospel institutes extended. As long as it accords with his own feelings, he can profess a respect to the word of God reverential enough; but the instant his own perverse temper is met by its wholesome authority, he rises into as open rebellion against scripture, as against law on other occasions: "I say unto you, Whoso shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery; and whosoever marrieth her which is put away, doth commit adultery." Such are the express words of our Lord upon the subject of marriage; and a command more positively delivered, and less liable to misconstruction, is not to be found within the whole compass of the inspired volume. We say nothing of the pharisaic method of proceeding, suffered only because of the hardness of their hearts; nor of the evils which the whole community would suffer, from a change of the holy ordinance of matrimony into a timid dependence, on the part of the wife, upon the caprice or licentiousness of the husband. The express words of revelation render the whole matter so plain, that nothing but the very Quixotism of casuistry, or madness of error, would ever dream of advancing any other doctrine upon a point unequivocally set at rest by the holiest authority. But Milton was not a man to be stopped by scriptural authority, when it opposed his wishes. He kicks against the pricks most vigorously; and Mr. Fletcher follows, as in duty bound, like a faithful 'squire and devoted commentator. "Honest Pleadings in behalf of Domestic Liberty," is the title conferred by the latter upon the treatises devoted to this disgraceful subject; a remark which, of course, ought to ensure to Mr. Fletcher the especial thanks of that sex whom Milton's doctrine of arbitrary divorce more immediately concerns. We subjoin the heads of several chapters on the doctrine and discipline of divorce, as well to shew how far in audacity Milton's violence against the wife of his bosom could carry him, as to prove the justice of the title, with which, in return for his presumption, a sarcastic wit of his own time honoured him,-describing him, in his quaint language, as a noddy who wrote a book on wifing." Cap. 1.-" That man is the occasion of his own miseries, in most of those evils which he imputes to God's inflicting. The absurdity of our canonists in their decrees concerning divorce." Cap. 2.-"The first reason of this law grounded on the prime reason of matrimony. That no covenant whatever obliges both against the main end, both of itself and of the parties covenanting." Cap. 6." The fourth reason of this law, that God regards love and peace in the family more than a compulsive performance of marriage, which is more broken by a grievous continuance than by a needful divorce." Cap. 11.-"The seventh reason, that sometimes continuance in marriage may be evidently the shortening or endangering of life to either party; both law and divinity concluding, that life is to be preferred before marriage, the intended solace of life." Cap. 13.-"Marriage compared with all other covenants and vows warrantably broken for the good of man. Marriage the Papist's sacrament, and unfit marriage the Protestant's idol." Book 2. Cap. 1.-" The ordinance of sabbath and marriage compared: Hyperbole no unfrequent figure in the Gospel. Excess cured by contrary excess. Christ neither did nor could abrogate the law of divorce, but only reprieve the abuse thereof. Cap. 6.-"That the law had no more right to this dispense than the christian hath, and rather not so much." Cap.-.-"That the matter of divorce is not to be tried by law, but by conscience, as many other sins are.” The line of argument pursued may be easily imagined from the above extracts, and with these, without following in detail the casuistical subtleties in which Milton has contrived to envelop the question, we are compelled to close our notice. To deny that throughout the Works we have been considering, there exist many passages of great beauty, much sublimity of thought and harmony of language, would be as absurd as unjust. Whoever has an ear to appreciate the most skilfully arranged composition, and a taste which can derive pleasure from eloquence; sometimes embodying the deepest feeling in the most appropriate words; and, at others, rising to a loftiness and majesty which claim relationship with the finest passages of the Paradise Lost, will find considerable gratification in the perusal of the controversies in question. But at what price will the pleasure be bought? At the price of having his feelings constantly wounded by the most violent attacks upon much which he has been accustomed to respect, and much which he has been taught deservedly to regard;-at the price of being continually called upon, to express his disgust at the violation of propriety, and outrages on decency, carried to an extent which, before proved by undoubted evidence, would scarcely be deemed credible. We say little of the injury which the reputation of the poet himself must sustain, by his being exhibited in the character of a peevish and factious partizan. Yet this, as we have before said, is any thing but inconsiderable :: Rotta e l'alta colonna e'l verde lauro. All the visions of our youth, connected with the greatest epic minstrel of our own country, are at once swept away; we think no longer of Milton, as of one of heroic cast and stature; living, indeed, among the haunts of common men, and at times compelled to take a share in their intercourse, but when left to the natural bent of his genius, at once escaping from the trammels of our inferior existence, and rising far above the smoke and stir of this dull spot Which men call earth, to mingle with the scenes and agents pertaining to a far nobler theatre of being Together with this delusion, departs also all that solemnity of character, naturally enough attracted, in imagination, to the poet whose professed object it was to "vindicate the ways of God to man," and whom we have been accustomed scarcely to regard so much in the light of a character of modern times, as of one of those olden worthies, who, in the finest palmy days of metrical inspiration, blended the highest qualities of the poet, with much of the venerable and mysterious character of the seer. Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides, Tiresias and Phineas, prophets old. Some errors are certainly worth retaining; and that which fixes the worth of others at a higher standard than their intrinsic merits deserve, is perhaps to be considered among the number. At any rate, whatever may be the value of essential truth, its discovery is not always attended with pleasure; and a more striking instance of this, we could hardly select, than the display of the writer of Paradise Lost in the guise of a sophistical and libellous pedant, perpe. tually quitting the grand question of interests of nations, for a point of grammatical accuracy, the hired gladiator of an illiterate and insolent faction in public, and at home the advocate of an arbitrary power, which, if general, would make every domestic hearth, the abode of misery and apprehension. We cannot take our final leave of the works before us, without remarking, as probably many of our readers have already done, the great similarity between the spirit manifested throughout every production of Milton, directly or indirectly connected with politics, and that which pervades the works of the great father of the Italian epic, of whose writings the English poet was a frequent and diligent student. "Nec me tam ipsæ Athenæ Atticæ cum suo pellucido Ilisso, nec illa vetus Roma suâ Tiberis ripâ retinere valuerunt, quin et Arnum sæpe vestrum et Fesulanos illos colles invisere amem. These words of elegant commendation shew in which light Milton regarded the first fount of pure poetry opened to Europe, amidst the darkness of the middle ages. It had been well for their writer, if he had not at the same time imbibed, and concentrated into double power, the intensity of scorn and hatred which render the Divina Comedia a very Mara of perverted and forbidden feelings. But much may be said in extenuation of the Florentine, which can never be pleaded in favour of his English imitator. Let us remember, that the former lived at a period when the darkest pas sions held almost universal sway, and in a country in which a deeply seated feeling of revenge forms one of the most striking features of the national character. A hopeless exile from his native city, towards which he seems perpetually to have turned with the feelings of a child when separated from its parent, a wanderer forced to depend upon the hospitality of foreign courts for his subsistence, with the memory of an early blighted love preying upon his heart, and the terrible sentence which affixed death at the stake as a penalty for re-entering the walls of Florence, ringing in his ears,—it is not so much to be wondered at, however it may be blamed, that Dante should at times have yielded to the evil passion and fiery invective with which the Inferno, especially, is replete. Yet, on no occasion does he descend to the pettiness of insult, and low personal abuse, which pollute the pages of Milton. He does not break through the barriers of domestic privacy, in his search for taunts wherewith to gall an antagonist; neither is there a single word of vulgar ridicule, however much there may be of uncompromising hostility, in his work. Dignified in his enmity, and preserving, amidst all his sullen indignation, at least that outward semblance of respect which the pride of man, we fear, as often as his forbearance, exacts towards a fallen foe, he walks among the creations of his feverish fancy, and the shades of his doomed and lamenting enemies, with a lordliness of port, and melancholy sobriety of manner, which elicit from us that degree of admiration, which all but induces us to address him in the words of the dramatic poet. Thou hast a grim appearance, but thy face It is needless, after the extracts we have already brought forward, to shew how totally different, in the expression of the same feeling, is the whole manner of Milton. As far as the latter rises above the author of the Divina Comedia, in the great essentials to a poet; so far does he sink below him, in all which can ensure our respect towards his character as a man. From that charge of inconsistency also, against which Milton cannot be defended, the Ghibelline writer must be considered entirely free. He did not, after professing republican principles, bow at the feet of a lawless and fanatical homicide; he did not condescend to flatter a brutal and impudent John Bradshaw; he did not run half wild at the praises of a crowned maniac like Christina of Sweden. Perhaps it would not be altogether foreign to the question, to observe, as an additional test of the moral merit of the two writers, that, great as Milton was in other respects, he must be considered far short of Dante, in his conception of perfect female excellence. Eve is certainly, in many respects, a finely conceived and admirably delineated character; but how much inferior to the sainted and gentle Beatrice, refined from the last taint of earth, but still the subject of earthly affections, hovering over her charge with heavenly compassion, and looking upon his errors and wanderings: -Con quel sembiante Che madre fa sopra il figliaol' deliro. Such a being, it seems to have been as much beyond Milton's inclination to imagine, as probably, if imagined, it would have been beyond his skill to portray. A few words to Mr. Fletcher, at parting. He has undertaken a task as far beyond his years as his strength to sustain, and, labouring under a consciousness of his own weakness, he' is constantly endeavouring to lash himself into a strain of eloquence which may form a fitting introduction to works owing their existence to so celebrated an author; the consequence is, that he thinks no words of weight and calibre sufficient to carry him through the commission, somewhat injudiciously, as it appears to us, devolved upon him, and, in the true spirit of an ambition determined to be contented with nothing but the most turgid declamation, and the very fustian of discourse, he very naturally frustrates his own object, and "falls o' the other side." That he has some degree of talent, we do not intend to deny; but that it has been ludicrously thrown away in the gasconading treatise before us, is a position at least equally tenable. Had he been contented with a temperate and unprejudiced introduction, in which the faults as well as the merits of his author were fairly stated, refraining from identifying himself with all the angry feelings afloat in 1649, as well as from the most unqualified insults upon a body of men, who, whatever may be their demerits, are so far from deserving the false and libellous aspersions cast upon them in the thirty-eighth page of his essay, as Mr. Fletcher is from meriting the commendation due to an accurate and pleasing writer-we might have finished the perusal of his preface with sentiments of respect for John Milton himself, somewhat less slight than we are just now inclined to entertain. We certainly should have had a very different opinion of his editor. REVIEW.--The Rhetorical Speaker, and ON THE BEING OF A GOD. Thy name, great Nature's sire divine, Rejecting godheads at whose shrine Yon countless worlds in boundless space, But Thou, too, madest that floweret gay The hand that fired the lamps of day, "As falls a sparrow to the ground, By the same law those globes wheel round, One order to fulfil. We should be very happy to know that the excellent sentiments, expressed in these lines, emanated from the exalted individual whose name they bear. Nor is it only for his own sake that we express this wish, but also for the sake of religion. It is one of the most glorious distinctions of Christianity, that it equally benefits and graces the character of individuals of every grade in society and of every diversity of pursuit. If, indeed, the Christian religion could derive honour from any class of mankind, it would be from those whose exalted rank and station are perpetually opening before them avenues to secular pleasure, and presenting temptations to entire devotion to the world; and, if its value could possibly be enhanced, it would be by its association with that elevation and power which are adapted conspicuously to exhibit its influence, and widely to extend its blessings. |