tury. We feel that we are drawing too near cur own time; and that, if we go on, we shall be in danger of saying much which may be supposed to indicate, and which will certainly excite, angry feelings. We will, therefore, make only one observation, which, in our opinion, is deserving of serious attention. During the eighteenth century, the influence of the Church of Rome was constantly on the decline. Unbelief made extensive conquests in all the Catholic countries of Europe, and in some countries obtained a complete ascendency. The Papacy was at length brought so low as to be an object of derision to infidels, and of pity rather than of hatred to Protestants. During the nineteenth century, this fallen Church has been gradually rising from her depressed state, and reconquering her old dominion. No person who calmly reflects on what, within the last few years, has passed in Spain, in Italy, in South America, in Ireland, in the Netherlands, in Prussia, even in France, can doubt that her power over the hearts and minds of men is now greater than it was when the "Encyclopædia" and the "Philosophical Dictionary" appeared. It is surely remarkable, that neither the moral revolution of the eighteenth century, nor the moral counter-revolution of the nineteenth, should, in any perceptible degree, have added to the domain of Protestantism. During the former period, whatever was lost to Catholicism was lost also to Christianity; during the latter, whatever was regained by Christianity in Catholic countries, was regained also by Catholicism. We should naturally have expected that many minds, on the way from superstition to infidelity, or on the way back from infidelity to superstition, would have stopped at an intermediate point. Between the doctrines taught in the schools of the Jesuits, and those which were maintained at the little supper parties of the Baron Holbach, there is a vast interval, in which the human mind, it should seem, might find for itself some resting-place more satisfactory than either of the two extremes. And at the time of the Reformation, millions found such a resting-place. Whole nations then renounced Popery without ceasing to believe in a first cause, in a future life, or in the Divine authority of Christianity. In the last century, on the other hand, when a Catholic renounced his belief in the real presence, it was a thousand to one that he renounced his belief in the Gospel too; and when the reaction took place, with belief in the Gospel came back belief in the real presence. We by no means venture to deduce from these phenomena any general law: but we think it a most remarkable fact, that no Christian nation, which did not adopt the principles of the Reformation before the end of the sixteenth century, should ever have adopted them Catholic communities have, since that time, become infidel and become Catholic again but none has become Protestant. Here we close this hasty sketch of one of the most important portions of the history of mankind. Our readers will have great reason to feel obliged to us if we have interested them sufficiently to induce them to peruse Professor Ranke's book. We will only caution them against the French translation-a performance which, in our opinion, is just as discreditable to the moral character of the person from whom it proceeds, as a false affidavit or a forged bili of exchange would have been; and advise them to study either the original, or the English version, in which the sense and spirit of the original are admirably preserved. COWLEY AND MILTON. "Referre sermones Deorum et us, lest we should too feelingly remind M. Milton of his calamity; whereof, however, he needed no monitor, for soon he said, sadly, 'Ah, Mr. Cowley, you are a happy man. Wha would I now give for one more look at the sur and the waters, and the gardens of this fair city?" I HAVE thought it good to set down in writing an hour on the river." To this they both cheer a memorable debate, wherein I was a listener, fully consented, and forth we walked, Mr. Cowand two men of pregnant parts and great repu-ley and I leading Mr. Milton between us, to the tation discoursers; hoping that my friends will Temple Stairs. There we took a boat, and not be displeased to have a record both of the thence we rowed up the river. strange times through which I have lived, and The wind was pleasant; the evening fine; of the famous men with whom I have con- the sky, the earth, and the water beautiful to versed. It chanced in the warm and beautiful look upon. But Mr. Cowley and I held our spring of the year 1665, a little before the sad-peace, and said nothing of the gay sights around dest summer that ever London saw, that I went to the Bowling-Green at Piccadilly, whither at that time the best gentry made continual resort. There I met Mr. Cowley, who had lately left, Barnelms. There was then a house preparing for him at Chertsey, and till it should be finished he had come up for a short time to London, that he might urge a suit to his Grace of Bucking1 ham touching certain lands of her majesty's whereof he requested a lease. I had the honour to be familiarly acquainted with that worthy gentleman and most excellent poet, whose death hath been deplored with as general a consent of all powers that delight in the woods, or in verse, or in love, as was of old that of Daphnis or of Gallus. After some talk, which it is. material to set down at large, concerning his suit and his vexations at the court, where indeed his honesty did him more harm than his parts could do him good, I entreated him to dine with me at my lodgings in the Temple, which he most courteously promised. And that so eminent a guest might not lack a better entertainment than cooks or vintners can provide, I sent to the house of Mr. John Milton, in the Artillery Walk, to beg that he would also be my guest. For, though he had been secretary, first to the Council of State, and after that to the Protector, and Mr. Cowley had held the same post under Lord St. Albans in his banishment, I hoped, notwithstanding, that they would think themselves rather united by their common art than divided by their different factions. And so indeed it proved. For while we sate at table they talked freely of many men and things, as well ancient as modern, with much civility. Nay, Mr. Milton, who seldom tasted wine, both because of his singular temperance, and because of his gout, did more than once pledge Mr. Cowley, who was indeed no hermit in diet. At last, being heated, Mr. Milton begged that I would open the windows. "Nay," said I, "if you desire fresh air and coolness, what should hinder us, as the evening is fair, from sailing * A Conversation between Mr. Abraham Cowley and Mr. John Milton, touching the Great Civil War.-Set down by Gentleman of the Middle Temple. whether I know not," said Mr. Cowley, we ought not rather to envy you for that w makes you to envy others; and that especi in this place, where all eyes which are closed in blindness ought to become founta of tears. What can we look upon which is 1 a memorial of change and sorrow, of i things vanished, and evil things done? Wh I see the gate of Whitehall, and the stately p lars of the Banqueting House, I cannot choos but think of what I have seen there in for days, masques, and pageants, and dances, an smiles, and the waving of graceful heads, and the bounding of delicate feet. And then I tur to thoughts of other things, which even to re member makes me blush and weep;―of the great black scaffold, and the axe and the block, which were placed before those very windows; and the voice seems to sound in mine ears, the lawless and terrible voice which cried out that the head of a king was the head of a traitor There stands Westminster Hall, which who can look upon and not tremble to think how time, and change, and death confound the counsels of the wise, and beat down the wea pons of the mighty? How have I seen it surrounded with tens of thousands of petitioners crying for justice and privilege! How have I heard it shake with fierce and proud words, which made the hearts of the people to burs within them! Then it is blockaded by dre goons and cleared by pikemen. And they whe have conquered their master go forth trembling at the word of their servant. And yet a little while, and the usurper comes forth from it, in his robe of ermine, with the golden staff in one hand and the Bible in the other, amidst the roaring of the guns and the shouting of the people. And yet again a little while, and the and the hearse and the plumes come forth, and doors are thronged with multitudes in black the tyrant is borne, in more than royal pom to a royal sepulchre. A few days more, and money? Had they not taken from the king his his head is fixed to rot on the pinnacles of that ancient and most lawful power touching the very hall where he sat on a throne in his life, order of knighthood? Had they not provided and lay in state after his death. When I think that, after their dissolution, triennial parlia on all these things, to look round me makes ments should be holden, and that their own me sad at heart. True it is that God hath re- power should continue till of their great con-` stored to us our old laws, and the rightful line descension they should be pleased to resign it of our kings. Yet, how I know not, but it themselves? What more could they ask? seems to me that something is wanting,-that Was it not enough that they had taken from our court hath not the old gravity, nor our peo- their king all his oppressive powers, and many ple the old loyalty. These evil times, like the that were most salutary? Was it not enough great deluge, have overwhelmed and confused that they had filled his council-board with his all earthly things. And, even as those waters, enemies, and his prisons with his adherents? though at last they abated, yet, as the learned Was it not enough that they had raised a furiwrite, destroyed all trace of the Garden of ous multitude to shout and swagger daily under Eden, so that its place hath never yet been the very windows of his royal palace? Was found, so hath this opening of all the flood-it not enough that they had taken from him gates of political evil effaced all marks of the ancient political paradise." "Sir, by your favour," said Mr. Milton, "though, from many circumstances both of body and fortune, I might plead fairer excuses for despondency than yourself, I yet look not so sadly either on the past or on the future. That a deluge hath passed over this our nation I deny not. But I hold it not to be such a deluge as that of which you speak, but rather a blessed flood, like those of the Nile, which in its overflow doth indeed wash away ancient landmarks, and confound boundaries, and sweep away dwellings, yea, doth give birth to many foul and dangerous reptiles. Yet hence is the fulness of the granary, the beauty of the garden, the nurture of all living things. "I remember well, Mr. Cowley, what you have said concerning these things in your Discourse of the Government of Oliver Cromwell, which my friend Elwood read to me last year. Truly, for elegance and rhetoric, that essay is to be compared with the finest tractates of Isocrates and Cicero. But neither that nor any other book, nor events which with other men have, more than any book, weight and authority, have altered my opinion that, of all the assemblies that ever were in this world, the best and the most useful was our Long Parliament. I speak not this as wishing to provoke debate, which neither yet do I decline." the most blessed prerogative of princely mercy; that, complaining of intolerance themselves, they had denied all toleration to others; that they had urged against forms scruples childish as those of any formalist; that they had persecuted the least remnant of the Popish rites with the fiercest bitterness of the Popish spirit? Must they besides all this have full power to command his armies and to massacre his friends? "For military command, it was never known in any monarchy, nay, in any well ordered republic, that it was committed to the debates of a large and unsettled assembly. For their other requisition, that he should give up to their vengeance all who had defended the rights of his crown, his honour must have been ruined if he had complied. Is it not therefore plain that they desired these things only in order that, by refusing, his majesty might give them a pretence for war? "Men have often risen up against fraud, against cruelty, against rapine. But when before was it known that concessions were met with importunities, graciousness with insults, the open palm of bounty with the clenched fist of malice? Was it like trusty delegates of the Commons of England and faithful stewards of their liberty and their wealth, to engage them for such causes in, civil war, which, both to liberty and to wealth, is of all things the most hostile. Evil indeed must be the disease which is not more tolerable than such a medicine. Those who, even to save a nation from tyrants, excite it to civil war, do in general but minister to it the same miserable kind of relief wherewith the wizards of Pharaoh mocked the Egyptian. We read that when Moses had turned their waters into blood, those impious magicians, intending not benefit to the thirst ing people, but vain and emulous ostentation of their own art, did themselves also change into blood the water which the plague had spared. Such sad comfort do those who stir Mr. Cowley was, as I could see, a little nettled. Yet, as he was a man of a kind disposition and a most refined courtesy, he put a force to himself, and answered, with more vehemence and quickness, indeed, than was his wont, yet not uncivilly. "Surely, Mr. Milton, you speak not as you think. I am indeed one of those who believe that God hath reserved to himself the censure of kings, and that their crimes and oppressions are not to be resisted by the hands of their subjects. Yet can I easily find excuse for the violence of such as are stung to madness by grievous tyranny. But what shall we say for these men? Which of their just de-up war minister to the oppressed. But here mands was not granted? Which even of their cruel and unreasonable requisitions, so as it were not inconsistent with all law and order, was refused? Had they not sent Strafford to the block and Laud to the Tower? Had they "These questions," said Mr. Milton, austere not destroyed the Courts of the High Commis-ly, "have indeed often deceived the ignorant, sion and the Star-Chamber? Had they not reversed the proceedings confirmed by the voices of the judges of England in the matter of ship where was the oppression? What was the favour which had not been granted? What was the evil which had not been removed? What further could they desire?" but that Mr. Cowley should have been so beguiled, I marvel. You ask what more the Parliament could desire? I will answer you neither by law nor honour. Nay, even while he was making those very concessions of which you speak, he betrayed his deadly hatred against the people and their friends. Not only did he, contrary to all that ever was deemed lawful in England, order that members of the Commons House of Parliament should be impeached of high treason at the bar of the Lords; thereby violating both the trial by jury and the privileges of the House; but, not content with breaking the law by his ministers, he went himself armed to assail it. In the birth-place and sanctuary of freedom, in the House itself, nay, in the very chair of the Speaker, placed for the protection of free speech and privilege, he sat, rolling his eyes round the benches, searching for those whose blood he desired, and singling out his opposers to the slaughter. This most foul outrage fails. Then again for the old arts. Then come gracious messages. Then come courteous speeches. Then is again mortgaged his own forfeited honour. He will never again violate the laws. He will respect their rights as if they were his own. He pledges the dignity of his crown; that crown which had been com mitted to him for the weal of his people, and which he never named, but that he might the more easily delude and oppress them. in one word, security. What are votes, and could not be defended. It was because he had statutes, and resolutions? They have no eyes never yielded the worst abuse without a long to see, no hands to strike and avenge. They struggle, and seldom without a large bribe; it must have some safeguard from without. was because he had no sooner disentangled Many things, therefore, which in themselves himself from his troubles than he forgot his were peradventure hurtful, was this Parlia- promises; and, more like a villanous huckster ment constrained to ask, lest otherwise good than a great king, kept both the prerogative laws and precious rights should be without and the large price which had been paid to defence. Nor did they want a great and sig-him to forego it; it was because of these things nal example of this danger. I need not remind that it was necessary and just to bind with you that, many years before, the two houses forcible restraints one who could be bound had presented to the king the Petition of Right, wherein were set down all the most valuable privileges of the people of this realm. Did not Charles accept it? Did he not declare it to be law? Was it not as fully enacted as ever were any of those bills of the Long Parliament concerning which you spoke? And were those privileges therefore enjoyed more fully by the people? No: the king did from that time redouble his oppressions as if to avenge himself for the shame of having been compelled to renounce them. Then were our estates laid under shameful impositions, our houses ransacked, our bodies imprisoned. Then was the steel of the hangman blunted with mangling the ears of harmless men. Then our very minds were fettered, and the iron entered into our souls. Then we were compelled to hide our hatred, our sorrow, and our scorn, to laugh with hidden faces at the mummery of Laud, to curse under our breath the tyranny of Wentworth. Of old time it was well and nobly said by one of our kings, that an Englishman ought to be free as his thoughts. Our prince reversed the maxim; he strove to make our thoughts as much slaves as ourselves. To sneer at a Romish pageant, to miscall a lord's crest, were crimes for which there was no mercy. These were all the fruits which we gathered from those excellent laws of the former Parliament, from these solemn promises of the king. Were we to be deceived again? Were we again to give subsidies, and receive nothing but promises? Were we again to make wholesome statutes, and then leave them to be broken daily and hourly, until the oppressor should have squandered another supply, and should be ready for another perjury? You ask what they could desire which "For civil war, that it is an evil I dispute he had not already granted. Let me ask of not. But that it is the greatest of evils, that you another question. What pledge could be I stoutly deny. It doth indeed appear to the given which he had not already violated? misjudging to be a worse calamity than bad From the first year of his reign, whenever he government, because its miseries are collected had need of the purses of his Commons to sup- together within a short space and time, and port the revels of Buckingham or the proces- may easily at one view be taken in and per sions of Laud, he had assured them, that as he ceived. But the misfortunes of nations ruled was a gentleman and a king, he would sacred- by tyrants, being distributed over many centu ly preserve their rights. He had pawned those ries, and many places, as they are of greater solemn pledges, and pawned them again and weight and number, so are they of less disagain; but when had he redeemed them? play. When the devil of tyranny hath gone Upon my faith,Upon my sacred word,'-into the body politic he departs not but with Upon the honour of a prince,'-came so easily from his lips and dwelt so short a time on his mind, that they were as little to be trusted as the 'By these hilts' of an Alsatian dicer. "Therefore it is that I praise this Parliament for what else I might have condemned. If what he had granted had been granted graciously and readily, if what he had before romised had been faithfully observed, they "The power of the sword, I grant you, was not one to be permanently possessed by parlia ment. Neither did that parliament demand it as a permanent possession. They asked it only for temporary security. Nor can I see on what conditions they could safely make peace with that false and wicked king, save such as would deprive him of all power to injure. struggles, and foaming, and great convulsions.. houses than to the king; nay not so much, since he by a little sincerity and moderation might have rendered that needless which their duty to God and man then enforced them to do." stain from those rigours? Had they, like him, for good and valuable considerations, aliened their hurtful prerogatives? Surely not: for whatever excuse you can plead for him, he had wholly excluded himself. The borders of "Pardon me, Mr. Milton," said Mr. Cowley, countries, we know, are mostly the seats of "I grieve to hear you speak thus of that good perpetual wars and tumults. It was the same king. Most unhappy indeed he was, in that he with the undefined frontiers, which of old sereigned at a time when the spirit of the then parated privilege and prerogative. They were living generation was for freedom, and the pre- the debatable land of our polity. It was no cedents of former ages for prerogative. His marvel if, both on the one side and on the case was like to that of Christopher Columbus, other, inroads were often made. But when when he sailed forth on an unknown ocean, treaties have been concluded, spaces meaand found that the compass whereby he shaped sured, lines drawn, landmarks set up, that his course had shifted from the north pole which before might pass for innocent error or whereto before it had constantly pointed. So just reprisal, becomes robbery, perjury, deadly it was with Charles. His compass varied, sin. He knew not, you say, which of his and therefore he could not tack aright. If he powers were founded on ancient law, and had been an absolute king he would, doubtless, which only on vicious example. But had he like Titus Vespasian, have been called the de- not read the Petition of Right? Had not prolight of the human race. If he had been a clamation been made from his throne; Soit Doge of Venice, or a Stadtholder of Holland, | fait comme il est desiré? he would never have outstepped the laws. But he lived when our government had neither clear definitions nor strong sanctions. Let, therefore, his faults be ascribed to the time. Of his virtues the praise is his own. blameless because he prayeth at night and morning? If he be insatiable in plunder and revenge, shall we pass it by because in meat and drink he is temperate? If he have lived like a tyrant, shall he be forgotten because he hath died like a martyr? "For his private virtues they are beside the question. Remember you not," and Mr. Milton smiled, but somewhat sternly, "what Dr. Caius saith in the Merry Wives of Shakspeare! What shall the honest man do in my closet? "Never was there a more gracious prince, There is no honest man that shall come in my or a more proper gentleman. In every plea- closet.' Even so say I. There is no good sure he was temperate, in conversation mild man who shall make us his slaves. If he break and grave, in friendship constant, to his ser- his word to his people, is it a sufficient defence vants liberal, to his queen faithful and loving, that he keeps it to his companions? If he in battle brave, in sorrow and captivity re-oppress and extort all day, shall he be held solved, in death most Christian and forgiving. "For his oppressions, let us look at the former history of this realm. James was never accounted a tyrant. Elizabeth is esteemed to have been the mother of her people. Were they less arbitrary? Did they never lay hands on the purses of their subjects but by Act of Parliament? Did they never confine insolent and disobedient men but in due course of law? Was the court of Star-Chamber less active? Were the ears of libellers more safe? I pray you, let not King Charles be thus dealt with. It was enough that in his life he was tried for ** an alleged breach of laws which none had ever heard named till they were discovered for his destruction. Let not his fame be treated as was his sacred and anointed body. Let not his memory be tried by principles found out post facto. Let us not judge by the spirit of one generation a man whose disposition had been formed by the temper and fashion of another." "He was a man, as I think, who had such a semblance of virtues as might make his vices most dangerous. He was not a tyrant after our wonted English model. The second Richard, and the second and fourth Edwards, and the eighth Harry, were men profuse, gay, boisterous; lovers of women and of wine, of no outward sanctity or gravity. Charles was a ruler after the Italian fashion; grave, demure, of a solemn carriage, and sober diet; as constant at prayers as a priest, as heedless of oaths as an atheist." Mr. Cowley answered somewhat sharply: "I am sorry, sir, to hear you speak thus. I had hoped that the vehemence of spirit which was caused by these violent times had now abated. Yet, sure, Mr. Milton, whatever you may think of the character of King Charles, you will not still justify his murder." "Nay, but conceive me, Mr. Cowley," said Mr. Milton," inasmuch as, at the beginning of his reign, he imitated those who had governed before him, I blame him not. To expect that "Sir," said Mr. Milton, "I must have been kings will, of their own free choice, abridge of a hard and strange nature, if the vehemence their prerogative, were argument of but slender which was imputed to me in my younger days wisdom. Whatever, therefore, lawless, unjust, had not been diminished by the afflictions or cruel, he either did or permitted during the wherewith it has pleased Almighty God to first years of his reign, I pass by. But for chasten mine age. I will not now defend all what was done after that he had solemnly that I may heretofore have written. But this given his consent to the Petition of Right, I say, that I perceive not wherefore a king where shall we find defence? Let it be sup- should be exempted from all punishment. Is posed, which yet I concede not, that the tyranny it just that where most is given least should be of his father and of Queen Elizabeth had been required? or politic, that where there is the no less rigorous than was his. But had his greatest power to injure there should no de father, had that queen sworn, like him, to abger to restrain? But, von will sav. there is |