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“In the meantime, out of compassion for, and compliance towards those who would forbear the cross in baptisms, we are content that no man shall be compelled to use the same, or suffer for not doing it, and if the proper minister shall refuse to omit that ceremony of the cross, it shall be lawful for the parent, who would not have his child so baptized, to procure another minister to do it, who will do it according to his desire. No man shall be eompelled to bow at the name of Jesus, or suffer in any degree for not doing it.

“For the use of the surplice, we are contented that all men be left to their liberty to do as they shall think fit, without suffering in the least degree for wearing or not wearing it.”

Thus Charles II. and his counsellors tacitly admitted that rites and ceremonies are not necessary to the advancement of Christianity. In the ranks, therefore, both of those members of the Church of England who were rigid, and of those who were lax in practice, we # testimonies to the needlessness of ceremonies for the promotion of Christianity. And that Ritualism is unnecessary to the advancement of true Christianity is evident from the progress made by Christianity in the days of the Puritans, under Whitfield and his coadjutors, and since o in denominations who of all sections of the professin Church of Christ have the smallest number of ceremonies, oã attach to them the smallest degree of importance. That Ritualism is not consistent with the advancement of true Christianity is evident from its inconsistency with the nature of Christianity, as that is exemplified in the practice of Christ and His apostles—the standard by which we must test all that professes to be Christianity. Christ teaches us that God is a Spirit. He is not material. Therefore the worship which He requires is spiritual. Corporeal worship is suited to a corporeal being. Were the true God such, then bowings, genuflections, prostrations, risings, peculiar garments for worship, and changes of dress in it, with adornings of His temple would be suitable; but to the God who is a Spirit such things can give no pleasure; and when they are employed in His o they are wholly inappropriate and out of place. The whole of bodily worship, that is possible is, if it be nothing more, utterly unacceptable to the true God, and altogether unprofitable to the worshipper. God requires to be worshipped in spirit, that is, with the heart and feelings; and in truth, that is, in sincerity and reality, not in appearance only. The character of the place in which worship is conducted, or what there is present in or absent from the place, is wholly unessential. orship is as acceptable in a room, a barn, or a hovel, as in a cathedral. The attitude of the worshipper is e ually unimportant. God regards not whether the worship be paid in a sitting, standing, or kneeling posture, nor in what direction the face be turned; neither is the dress of the worshipper a matter of the smallest moment, for God hath declared that #. looketh not on the outward appearance, but on the heart. Whenever, and wherever the heart ascends to God, there is true worship, whatever else be absent. The ap stle Paul tells the Corinthians that he was sent to preach the gospel, not with wisdom of words, lest the cross of Christ should be made of none effect, that is, lest men's minds should be taken off the matter of preaching, and be taken up with the manner of preaching—lest the doctrine of a crucified Christ

should be lost sight of from the attention being preeminently given

to the eloquence of speech, and the accuracy and elegance of expression. So where Ritualism is put in the foreground, that which is esse itial and substantial is lost sight of, from the attention being supremely devoted to that which is adventitious; spiritual, heartfelt j is ignored, unconcernedness about offering such worship is naturally and necessarily fostered, the necessity of it is forgotten, and devotion sinks into a mere round of lifeless, empty formalities. A system that is thus opposed to true Christianity cannot be consistent with its advancement. All that such a system does or can do is to lead its adherents, as it progresses, to an increasing distance from true Christianity, till it merges in Roman Catholicism, or some similar scheme of mere outward, lifeless formalities, and is therefore utterly antagonistic to true Christianity's advancement. On this point we close with the words of a writer before quoted:—

*Hooper, Jewel, Hampden, Cromwell, all the thorough-going Protestants of the time, all the practical thinkers who knew mankind, believed that retention of ceremonies would predispose the people to Romanism. And looking along the intervening centuries, listening to the unappealable verdict of time, do we find that those rugged practical men were in the wrong? To Hooker's challenge to show how deadly infection could arise to the Church of England from similitude, in matters of indifference, to the Church of Rome, history has spoken their answer. Reminding her children constantly of the anient church, leaving them to decide whether her affinity is greater for Rome or for the Reformation, the Church of England has entailed upon them a trial to which many in every generation have fallen victims. A long procession of illustrious deserters from her communion, a procession in which glitter two crowns and many coronets, a procession in which have gone some of the noblest hearts and proudest intellects of Enga procession from which a constant arrow-flight of venomed taunts has reached her own bosom, testifies whether or not the Puritans of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries erred in pronouncing it dangerous for the Church of England to halt between the Romanists and the Regg"

Literature.

IS CARLYLE OR MACAULAY THE GREATER

WRITER!

MACAULAY.-III. It is with no little pleasure that we embrace the opportunity of expressing our opinions regarding one whom we greatly admire, and whose works have been a source of delight and profiit to us in our leisure as well as in our student hours. That celebrated man is Thomas Babington Macaulay, who was gifted by his great talents to be the literary ornament of the century in which he lived, and whose name will receive from succeeding ages the respect and homage due to high personal excellence, virtue, and ability, from all enlightened and impartial minds. It is impossible not to discourse at some length on one so eminent in so many respects ;-as an historian, so profound and so graceful; as an essayist, so celebrated and so brilliant; as a poet, so racy and so pleasing; as an orator, so eloquent and so astute; as a statesman, so distinguished and admired: in short, on a man whose virtuous life and wonderful talents won for him the admiration of all and the enmity of none. It is against the ability of such a man, as a writer, that another great man Carlyle-is placed, in order that it may be shown to whom the pre-eminence rightly belongs. We admit that Carlyle is a man of great power, but we must at the same time confess that his powers are such as we cannot admire. We trust, however, that we shall be able to give reasons why we prefer the one to the other, and otherwise consider in an impartial manner the arguments adduced in this discussion.

It is our first duty to consider what constitutes a “ great writer." and our view on this point is totally different from that given by H. K. (p. 90). A great writer is one who knows the subject upon which be is writing in all its details ; can convey to the reader the views he entertains in the most easily understood manner-in clear, pointed, and comprehensive language; to express sentiments in language most appropriate to the subject, using, of course, the most suitable words in a distinct manner, so that he may be understood without trouble. The ideas must be logically linked, so as to give an unmistakable connection to the subject from beginning to end. He must have a vigorous, discriminative, and versatile mind -be, in fact, a thinker. H. K. measures Carlyle by the standard that Carlyle has himself given of what he conceives a great writer should be, quoting—“Men of letters are a perpetual priesthood

from age to age, teaching all men that a God is still present in their life.” And—“In the true literary man there is ever, acknowledged or not by the world, a sacredness. He is the light of the world— the world's priest,-guiding it like a sacred pillar of fire in its dark pilgrimage through the waste of time.” Our opponent considers this to be the most satisfactory definition that can be given; but it is one to which we demur, as having little or no meaning. What distinct statement is given of a great writer in the references quoted? The very first sentence is defective, as it asserts that men of letters are a priesthood that teach all men that a God is present in their lives. Is this the case? Many of the greatest writers that ever lived have never taught that a God is present in the lives of men. A great writer is known by the influence that he may have had over his fellow-men, and by the way in which his works have been received by the people. But Carlyle's definition allows no latitude for those who do not teach as he defines, and on his principle Hume was a poor writer | Then as to the sacredness attached to the literary man, we may remark that there is an equal sacredness in every one who discharges his duty in the light of reason between man and man as there is in the literary man; or even as Carlyle himself has it in his “Sartor Resartus,” that there is “an inevitable, a veritable mystery in the meanest tinker that sees with eyes.” . We need not farther refer to the quotation; it is directly opposed to all experience, the practice and science of all who live or have lived in this world. “A great writer must also be a great thinker.” This is not the case. One may be the greatest thinker in an age, and at the same time quite unable to be such a writer as to influence his fellow-man. One with powers of composition—elegant and refined, or strong and telling, with not .. thought—may be a far better and abler writer than one deeply versed in thought who cannot adequately express what he thinks. Macaulay's literary creed was to master the subject upon which he wrote in all its aspects—to give all views having reference thereto impartially, embracing the side of truth, or the side which he conceives to be true; making his thoughts distinctly understood, adhering to the practical, showing the nobleness of a celebrated man on the one side and his faults on the other, adhering to the teachings of experience in opposition to that which bore the least signs .#the theoretical, painting the whole in clear language, using no jarring word to tingle the ear, and embellishing with his master hand everything that flowed from his pen to meet the wants and suit the understandings of all classes alike. Carlyle, on the other hand, makes a great noise about theoretical truth, if such a form of truth ean erist. He argues upon the nobleness of character, and what character is able to come to, without knowing that ultimate end more than we can know. In all his historical writings his ideas go zigzag, violating the recognised construction of the English language. "No one knows what he is about when he writes, he twists, contorts, and ill-uses the Queen's English. . His writings enerally excite curiosity, not at the ideas contained in them, but 5. awaken astonishment at the pell-mell outburst of words in which the extravagant ideas, if ascertainable, are clothed,—thus rendering the whole the reverse of practically useful or fascinating. In our view, therefore, of the elements which constitute a great writer, Macaulay has certainly the pre-eminence; for with whatever attention and consideration we may look upon the suggestive thoughts in Carlyle's works, still when we find no practical purpose in them—in their relation to ourselves and to society, we aver that Macaulay is the greater man, on account of the practical stamp which he has given to all his productions. When we can follow with ease and satisfaction to ourselves that which may be embraced in a work, we come to the conclusion that it is one which we may consider with profit, as tending to very beneficial results. But if it be written in an extravagant style, without due distinctness—in strange language without usefulness, without gracefulness, gaining vividness by bizarre speech, and moreover being without practical end, then there can be no other alternative for us but to deem such a work, one of doubtful merit. Macaulay answers the former, and Carlyle the latter description. Macaulay is different both in style and thought from Carlyle—wide as are the literary poles asunder. Macaulay is like a river flowing gracefully, yet majestically, to the ocean, nothing impeding its progress, every obstacle being carried away with noiseless yet irresistible force to the main current, and all the fleets of merchandise or war borne on its bosom with ease, grace, and dignity. Carlyle is the reverse. He is like a huge natural piece of unhewn granite—unwieldy, uncouth, without beauty or elegance. Macaulay is like the granite polished, glittering in its grandeur, pure as crystal, vivid and distinct. Macaulay is a perfect master of English speech. Carlyle's is a bastard Scoto-German style. He rolls and wallows as if he were a Caliban H. K. lays great stress on, and of course endorses an opinion which appeared in an article in the North British Review, which says that Carlyle entertains a “very deep disdain for the robes and trappings of antiquity and prejudice.” But we are unable to reconcile this statement with Carlyle's own definition of a great writer, who, he says, is “a priest from age to age, teaching men that a God is present in their lives.” Surely he must refer to antiquity, or even to bygone years for experience. The wise man is, however, the one who takes all that he thinks worth from antiquity, and considers prejudices, either national or local, in the sense in which they may influence the subjects under their control for better or worse. If Carlyle does, as our opponent asserts on the authority quoted, spurn all antiquity and prejudice, then we maintain that his is no prudent precedent for us to adopt, as it is only by our knowledge of the past that we are able to trace the rise and progress of our species, with the different phases which nationalities

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