religion were established he estimated at fourfifths of the nation. We believe this account to have been very near the truth. We believe that the people whose minds were made up on either side, who were inclined to make any sacrifice or run any risk for either religion, were very few. Each side had a few enterprising champions and a few stout-hearted martyrs; but the nation, undetermined in its opinions and feelings, resigned itself implicitly to the guidance of the government, and lent to the sovereign for the time being an equally ready aid against either of the extreme parties. We are very far from saying that the English of that generation were irreligious. They held firmly those doctrines which are common to the Catholic and to the Protestant theology. But they had no fixed opinion as to the matters in dispute between the churches. They were in a situation resembling that of those Borderers whom Sir Walter Scott has described with so much spirit;

"Who sought the beeves that made their broth In England and in Scotland both;"

And who

"Nine times outlawed had been

By England's king and Scotland's queen."
They were sometimes Protestants, sometimes
Catholics; sometimes half Protestants, half
Catholics.

common people entertained the strongest pre judices against his order, and that a clergy. man had no chance of fair play before a lay tribunal. The London juries, he said, entertained such a spite to the Church, that they would find Abel guilty of the murder of Cain. This was said a few months before the time when Martin Luther began to preach at Wit temberg against indulgences.

As the Reformation did not find the English bigoted Papists, so neither was it conducted in such a manner as to make them zealous Pro testants. It was not under the direction of men like that fiery Saxon, who swore that he would go to Worms, though he had to face as many devils as there were tiles on the houses, or like that brave Switzer, who was struck down while praying in front of the ranks of Zurich. No preacher of religion had the same power here which Calvin had at Geneva, and Knox in Scotland. The government put itself early at the head of the movement, and thus acquired power to regulate, and occasionally to arrest, the movement.

To many persons it appears extraordinary that Henry the Eighth should have been able to maintain himself so long in an intermediate position between the Catholic and Protestant parties. Most extraordinary, it would indeed be, if we were to suppose that the nation consisted of none but decided Catholics and deThe English had not, for ages, been bigoted cided Protestants. The fact is, that the great Papists. In the fourteenth century, the first, mass of the people were neither Catholic nor and perhaps the greatest of the reformers, John Protestant; but was, like its sovereign, midWickliffe, had stirred the public mind to its in- way between the two sects. Henry, in tha: most depths. During the same century, a very part of his conduct which has been repre scandalous schism in the Catholic church had sented as most capricious and inconsistent, diminished, in many parts of Europe, the re- was probably following a policy far more verence in which the Roman pontiffs were pleasing to the majority of his subjects, than held. It is clear that a hundred years before a policy like that of Edward or a policy like the time of Luther, a great party in this king- that of Mary would have been. Down even dom was eager for a change, at least as exten- to the very close of the reign of Elizabeth, the sive as that which was subsequently effected people were in a state somewhat resembling by Henry the Eighth. The House of Com- that in which, as Machiavelli says, the inhamons, in the reign of Henry the Fourth, pro- bitants of the Roman empire were, during the posed a confiscation of ecclesiastical property, transition from Heathenism to Christianity; more sweeping and violent even than that "sendo la maggior parte di loro incerti a quale which took place under the administration of Dio dovessero ricorrere." They were geneThomas Cromwell; and, though defeated in rally, we think, favourable to the royal suprethis attempt, they succeeded in depriving the macy. They disliked the policy of the court clerical order of some of its most oppressive of Rome. Their spirit rose against the interprivileges. The splendid conquests of Henry ference of a foreign priest with their national the Fifth turned the attention of the nation concerns. The bull which pronounced senfrom domestic reform. The Council of Con- tence of deposition against Elizabeth, the plots stance removed some of the grossest of those which were formed against her life, the usurpascandals which had deprived the Church of tion of her titles by the Queen of Scotland, the the public respect. The authority of that hostility of Philip, excited their strongest invenerable synod propped up the sinking au- dignation. The cruelties of Bonner were rethority of the Popedom. A considerable reac-membered with disgust. Some parts of the tion took place. It cannot, however, be doubted, new system, the use of the English language, that there was still much concealed Lollardism for example, in public worship, and the com in England; or that many who did not abso-munion in both kinds, were undoubtedly popu lutely dissent from any doctrine held by the lar. On the other hand, the early lessons of Church of Rome, were jealous of the wealth and power enjoyed by her ministers. At the very beginning of the reign of Henry the Eighth. a struggle took place between the clergy and the courts of law, in which the courts of law remained victorious. One of the ishops on that occasion declared, that the

the nurse and the priest were not forgotten. The ancient ceremonies were long remember. ed with affectionate reverence. A large por tion of the ancient theology lingered to the last in the minds which had been imbued with it in childhood.

The best proof that the religion of the people

as of this mixed kind, is furnished by the drama of that age. No man would bring unpopular opinions prominently forward in a play intended for representation. And we may safely conclude, that feelings and opinions which pervade the whole dramatic literature of an age, are feelings and opinions of which the men of that age generally partook.

populace, Elizabeth herself was not exempt from them. A crucifix, with wax-lights burning round it, stood in her private chapel. She always spoke with disgust and anger of the marriage of priests. "I was in horror," says Archbishop Parker, "to hear such words to come from her mild nature and Christian learned conscience, as she spake concerning God's holy ordinance and institution of matrimony." Burghley prevailed on her to connive at the marriages of churchmen. But she would only connive; and the children sprung from such marriages were illegitimate till the accession of James the First.

The greatest and most popular dramatists of the Elizabethan age treat religious subjects in a very remarkable manner. They speak respectfully of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity. But they speak neither like Catholics nor like Protestants, but like persons who are wavering between the two systems; or who That which is, as we have said, the great have made a system for themselves out of stain on the character of Burghley, is also the parts selected from both. They seem to hold great stain on the character of Elizabetn some of the Romish rites and doctrines in high Being herself an Adiaphorist, having no scrurespect. They treat the vow of celibacy, for ple about conforming to the Romish churcn. example, so tempting, and, in after times, so when conformity was necessary to her own common a subject for ribaldry, with mysterious safety, retaining to the last moment of her life reverence. The members of religious orders a fondness for much of the doctrine and much whom they introduce are almost always holy of the ceremonial of that church, she yet suband venerable men. We remember in their jected that church to a persecution even more plays nothing resembling the coarse ridicule odious than the persecution with which her with which the Catholic religion and its minis-sister had harassed the Protestants. We say ters were assailed, two generations later, by more odious. For Mary had at least the plea dramatists who wished to please the multitude. of fanaticism. She did nothing for her reliWe remember no Friar Dominic, no Father Foigard, among the characters drawn by those great poets. The scene at the close of the Knight of Malta might have been written by a fervent Catholic. Massinger shows a great fondness for ecclesiastics of the Romish church; and has even gone so far as to bring a virtuous and interesting Jesuit on the stage. Ford, in that fine play, which it is painful to read, and scarcely decent to name, assigns a highly creditable part to the Friar. The partiality of Shakspeare for Friars is well known. In Hamlet, the Ghost complains that he died without extreme unction, and, in defiance of the article which condemns the doctrine of purgatory, de

clares that he is

"Confined to fast in fires,

Til: the foul crimes, done in his days of nature, Are burnt and purged away." These lines, we suspect, would have raised a tremendous storm in the theatre at any time during the reign of Charles the Second. They were clearly not written by a zealous Protestant, or for zealous Protestants. Yet the author of King John and Henry the Eighth was surely no friend to papal supremacy.

There is, we think, only one solution of the phenomena which we find in the history and in the drama of that age. The religion of England was a mixed religion, like that of the Samaritan settlers, described in the second book of Kings, who "feared the Lord, and served their graven images;" like that of the Judaizing Christians, who blended the ceremonies and doctrines of the synagogue with those of the church; like that of the Mexican Indians, who, for many generations after the subjugation of their race, continued to unite with the rites learned from their conquerors, the worship of the grotesque idols which had been adored by Montezuma and Guatemozin.

These feelings were not confined to the

gion which she was not prepared to suffer for it. She had held it firmly under persecution. She fully believed it to be essential to salvation. If she burned the bodies of her subjects, it was in order to rescue their souls. Elizabeth had no such pretext. In opinion, she was little more than half a Protestant. She had professed, when it suited her, to be wholly a Catholic. There is an excuse, a wretched excuse, for the massacre of Piedmont and the autos-da-fe of Spain. But what can be said in defence of a ruler who is at once indifferent and intolerant ?

If the great queen, whose memory is still held in just veneration by Englishmen, had possessed sufficient virtue and sufficient enlargement of mind to adopt those principles which More, wiser in speculation than in action, had avowed in the preceding generation, and by which the excellent l'Hospital regu lated his conduct in her own time, how dif ferent would be the colour of the whole history of the last two hundred and fifty years! She had the happiest opportunity ever vouchsafed to any sovereign, of establishing perfect freedom of conscience throughout her dominions, without danger to her government, or scandal to any large party among her subjects. The nation, as it was clearly ready to profess either religion, would, beyond all doubt, have been ready to tolerate both. Unhappily for her own glory and for the public peace, she adopted a policy, from the effects of which the empire is still suffering. The yoke of the Established Church was pressed down on the people til they would bear it no longer. Then a reaction came. Another reaction followed. To the tyranny of the establishment succeeded the tumultuous conflict of sects, infuriated by man. fold wrongs, and drunk with unwonted freedom. To the conflict of sects succeeded again he cruel domination of one persecuting church

At length oppression put off its most horrible | he would have dissolved the Parliameat, and form, and took a milder aspect. The penal imprisoned the most popular members He laws against dissenters were abolished. But would have called another Parliament. He exclusions and disabilities still remained. would have given some vague and delusive These exclusions and disabilities, after having generated the most fearful discontents, after having rendered all government in one part of the kingdom impossible, after having brought the state to the very brink of ruin, have, in our times, been removed; but, though removed, have left behind them a rankling which may last for many years. It is melancholy to think with what ease Elizabeth might have united all the conflicting sects under the shelter of the same impartial laws and the same paternal throne; and thus have placed the nation in the same situation, as far as the rights of conscience are concerned, in which we at length stand, after all the heart-burnings, the persecutions, the conspiracies, the seditions, the revolutions, the judicial murders, the civil wars, of ten generations.

promises of relief in return for subsidies.
When entreated to fulfil his promises, he
would have again dissolved the Parliament,
and again imprisoned his leading opponents.
The country would have become more agi
tated than before. The next House of Com-
mons would have been more unmanageable
than that which preceded it.
The tyrant
would have agreed to all that the nation de
manded. He would have solemnly ratified an
act abolishing monopolies forever. He would
have received a large supply in return for this
concession; and within half a year new pa-
tents, more oppressive than those which had
been cancelled, would have been issued by
scores. Such was the policy which brought
the heir of a long line of kings, in early youth
the darling of his countrymen, to a prison and
a scaffold.

Elizabeth, before the House of Commons could address her, took out of their mouths the words which they were about to utter in the name of the nation. Her promises went be

close upon her promise. She did not treat the nation as an adverse party; as a party which had an interest opposed to hers; as a party to which she was to grant as few advantages as possible, and from which she was to extort as much money as possible. Her benefits were given, not sold; and when once given, they were not withdrawn. She gave them, too, with a frankness, an effusion of heart, a princely dignity, a motherly tenderness, which enhanced their value. They were received by the sturdy country gentleman, who had come up to Westminster full of resentment, with tears of joy and shouts of God save the Queen. Charles the First gave up half the prerogatives of his crown to the Commons; and the Commons sent him in return the Grand Remonstrance.

This is the dark side of her character. Yet she surely was a great woman. Of all the sovereigns who exercised a power which was seemingly absolute, but which in fact depended for support on the love and confidence of their subjects, she was by far the most illus-yond their desires. Her performance followed trious. It has often been alleged, as an excuse for the misgovernment of her successors, that they only followed her example;-that precedents might be found in the transactions of her reign for persecuting the Puritans, for levying money without the sanction of the House of Commons, for confining men without bringing them to trial, for interfering with the liberty of parliamentary debate. All this may be true. But it is no good plea for her successors, and for this plain reason, that they were her successors. She governed one generation, they governed another; and between the two generations there was almost as little in common as between the people of two different countries. It was not by looking at the particular measures which Elizabeth had adopted, but by looking at the great general principles of her government, that those who followed her were likely to learn the art of managing untractable subjects. If, instead of searching the records of her reign for precedents which might seem to vindicate the mutilation of Prynne and the imprisonment of Eliot, the Stuarts had attempted to discover the fundamental rules which guided her conduct in all her dealings with her people, they would have perceived that their policy was then most unlike to hers when, to a superficial observer, it would have seemed most to resemble hers. Firm, haughty, sometimes unjust and cruel in her proceedings towards individuals or towards small parties, she avoided with care, or retracted with speed, every measure which seemed likely to alienate the great mass of the people. She gained more honour and inore love by the manner in which she repaired her errors, than she would have gained by never committing errors. If such a man as Chanes the First had been in her place when

whole nation was crying out against the monopolies, he would have refused all redress:

We had intended to say something concernis the central figure-that group which the ing that illustrious group of which Elizabeth last of the bards saw in vision from the top of Snowdon, encircling the Virgin Queen

"Many a baron bold,

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
In bearded majesty."

We had intended to say something concerning
the dexterous Walsingham, the impetuous Ox-
ford, the elegant Sackville, the all-accomplish-
ed Sidney; concerning Essex, the ornament of
the court and of the camp, the model of chival
ry, the munificent patron of genius, whom great
virtues, great courage, great talents, the favour
of his sovereign, the love of his countrymen-
all that seemed to insure a happy and glorious
life, led to an early and an ignominious death.
concerning Raleigh, the soldier, the sailor, the
scholar, the courtier, the orator, the poet, the
historian, the philosopher, sometimes review.
ing the queen's guards sometimes givin

cnase to a Spanish galleon, then answering | Prince of Philosophers, who have made the the chiefs of the country party in the House of Elizabethan age a more glorious and important Commons, then again murmuring one of his era in the history of the human mind, than the sweet love-songs too near the ears of her high- age of Pericles, of Augustus, or of Leo. But ness's maids of honour, and soon after poring subjects so vast require a space far larger over the Talmud, or collating Polybius with than we can at present afford. We therefore Livy. We had intended also to say something stop here, fearing that, if we proceed, our arti concerning the literature of that splendid pe-cle may swell to a bulk exceeding that of all riod, and especially concerning those two incomparable men, the Prince of Poets and the

other reviews, as much as Doctor Nares's book exceeds the bulk of all other histories.

DUMONT'S RECOLLECTIONS OF MIRABEAU.*

[EDINBURGH Review, 1832.]

great original thinker, and to a sincere and ardent friend of the human race. If a few weaknesses were mingled with his eminent virtues, if a few errors insinuated themselves among the many valuable truths which he taught, this is assuredly no time for noticing those weaknesses or those errors in an unkind or sarcastic spirit. A great man has gone from among us, full of years, of good works, and of deserved honours. In some of the highest departments in which the human intellect can exert itself, he has not left his equal or his

THIS is a very amusing and a very instructive book; but, even if it were less amusing and less instructive, it would still be interesting as a relic of a wise and virtuous man. M. Dumont was one of those persons, the care of whose fame belongs in an especial manner to mankind, for he was one of those persons who have, for the sake of mankind, neglected the care of their own fame. In his walk through life there was no obtrusiveness, no pushing, no elbowing, none of the little arts which bring forward little men. With every right to the head of the board, he took the low-second behind him. From his contemporaries est room, and well deserved to be greeted withFriend, go up higher. Though no man was more capable of achieving for himself a separate and independent renown, he attached himself to others; he laboured to raise their fame; he was content to receive, as his share of the reward, the mere overflowings which redounded from the full measure of their glory. Not that he was of a servile and idolatrous habit of mind; not that he was one of the tribe of Boswells, those literary Gibeonites, born to be hewers of wood and drawers of water to the higher intellectual castes. Possessed of talents and acquirements which made him great, he wished only to be useful. In the prime of manhood, at the very time of life at which ambitious men are most ambitious, he was not solicitous to proclaim that he furnished information, arguments, and eloquence to Mirabeau. In his later years he was perfectly willing that his renown should merge in that of Mr. Bentham.

he has had, according to the usual lot, more or less than justice. He has had blind flatterers and blind detractors; flatterers who could see nothing but perfection in his style, detractors who could see nothing but nonsense in his matter. He will now have judges. Posterity will pronounce its calm and impartial decision, and that decision will, we firmly believe, place in the same rank with Galileo and with Locke the man who found jurisprudence a gibberish and left it a science. Never was there a lite rary partnership so fortunate as that of Mr Bentham and M. Dumont. The raw material which Mr. Bentham furnished was most precious, but it was unmarketable. He was, assu redly, at once a great logician and a great rhetorician. But the effect of his logic was injured by a vicious arrangement, and the effect of his rhetoric by a vicious style. His mind was vigorous, comprehensive, subtile, fertile of arguments, fertile of illustrations. But he spoke in an unknown tongue; and, that the congregation might be edified, it was neces sary that some brother having the gift of interpretation should expound the invaluable jargon. His oracles were of high import, but they were traced on leaves and flung loose to the wind. So negligent was he of the arts of selection, distribution, and compression, that to persons who formed their judgment of him from his works in their undigested state, he seemed to be the least systematic of all philosophers. The truth is, that his opinions formed a sys tem which, whether sound or unsound, is more exact, more entire, and more consistent with itself than any other. Yet, to superficial reas