never exist anywhere but on the one spot of ground on which its builder places it; the other, however, is so far spiritual and universal that everybody who once realizes the conception sees and loves it. Thus Shakspeare really creates. Prospero and his daughter Ariel, and Caliban, are true creations, and they live and abide so long as men know what life is. Addison's Cato, on the other hand, does not live; it is merely combined. Hence Shakspeare is read for the life and soul in him, and Addison is read for the polish and refinement which he exhibits. We gaze upon and admire a beautiful woman because she is alive; but we look upon a statue or a picture of a woman because it so nearly resembles life and perfection.

We affirm, therefore, that of Irving's books, many will survive, because they are alive; and many will perish, because they are imitations. Knickerbocker's History, the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Rip Van Winkle, Dolph Heiliger, are creations; most of the others, combinations. And while present and future generations owe him lasting gratitude for his beautiful histories and biographies, we fully believe that these will yet be superseded, or will be read by subsequent compilers alone.

ART. III-BAYNE'S CHRISTIAN LIFE.

The Christian Life, Social and Individual. By PETER BAYNE, M. A. 12mo, pp. 528. Boston: Gould & Lincoln. 1855.

IN his exposition of the Parable of the Tares, Professor Trench remarks, "that evil is not, as so many dream, gradually to wane and to disappear before good," but that both are to unfold themselves "more and more mightily, till at last they stand face to face, each in its highest manifestation, in the persons of Christ and of Antichirst." This truth, though obvious enough to the student of Scripture, there is reason to fear is, at least in one of its aspects, too little pondered at the present time. Even intelligent Christians betray a proneness to imagine that, because in the past Christianity has triumphed over Titanic forms of error, it will never be called to similar encounters; that, because its present status is one of influence and respectability, there is less need than formerly for wariness on the part of its friends. The tendency of this is to be deplored. The measure of success, which, on the day of carnage, turns the tide of battle, as foretokening victory, may inspirit for the final charge;

but if it be allowed to induce a relaxation, it will likely prove the cause of defeat. The success of Christianity hitherto may well inspire courage and relieve apprehension; but to fancy that there will be no more hard fighting is a mistake fraught with danger. The old spirit of antagonism still lives, and, in every shifting or temporary lull, is as much to be dreaded as on the open field. It behooves those who are set for the defence of truth, to watch narrowly every manoeuvre of the foe. Especially is vigilance called for at the present time, when opposition has put on a friendly seeming, comes, so to speak, with a truce-flag waving, only, however, to deal a blow more deadly, because unexpected. Undisguised infidelity seldom ventures to show its scathed and battered visage; yet, with equal hostility, so concealed, however, as, without scrutiny, to escape detection, the infidel spirit was, perhaps, never more active. Our reference is not so much to those elaborate systems which, under pretext of refining Christianity, disrobe it of its essential glory, as to the spirit which animates much of the more elevated type of modern literature on both sides of the Atlantic. With a zeal and earnestness befitting a nobler mission, some of the mightiest intellects of the day have devoted themselves to the promulgation of opinions having a religious semblance, yet, in reality, as truly antagonistic to the Christian scheme as were those of Hume or Voltaire. As was to be expected, a multitude of satellites have clustered around these primaries, and, to the extent of their reflecting capacity, have diffused their rays till a whole section of our current literature is lurid with their baleful light. An able writer in the North British Review thus describes the literature in question:

"It is the extreme reaction against the character of our previous literature. Whereas the latter, with a somewhat atheistic indifference, nowhere sought a Divine meaning in things, this discerns a divinity everywhere, and preeminently in man himself, who is the great miracle of miracles, the true Emanuel. Whereas the one was content to rest on the mere surface and mechanism, the outward sensuousness and visibility of things, the other would penetrate to the living unity, the reality underlying all the confused phenomena of existence, the great heart of the universe. This, in now familiar phrase, is the Divine idea of the world,' which lies at the bottom of all appearance;' and men of letters, who rise to the consciousness of their true functions, and become interpreters of this Divine idea,' are, in the highest sense of the words, prophets and priests. It is impossible, therefore, to overestimate the importance of the literary function. It is the one perpetual Priesthood, from age to age, teaching men that God is still present in their lives. It is the one true Ministry, ever presenting in new forms of beauty, in richer and more touching sermons, the eternal truth of nature and of life."

That this is a fair exposition of the character and tendency of the literature of which we speak, even random quotations would

abundantly confirm. And, if our judgment be not utterly at fault, a serious danger threatens Christianity from this quarter. The chief ground of our fear lies in the concession we are forced to make, namely, that this teaching asserts, only with undue emphasis, an allimportant truth, heretofore too vaguely recognized. There is a definable sense in which divinity inheres in the universe, and especially in man. From the earth beneath, with its garnered treasures; from nature around, with its grand and beautiful forms, its voices of melody, softest in the zephyr, loudest in the thunder, but harmonious everywhere; from the solitudes of immensity, where shine afar unnumbered worlds, comes the attestation of an all-pervading divinity. Man, especially, is god-like, bears the Divine image. Now this truth, though embraced in our creeds, has, we are led to fear, with the mass of Christians even, lost its living force. It is our habit to look upon the universe as a mechanism, infinitely more perfect, indeed, than anything merely human, yet devoid of any special Divine significance. So far, therefore, as these littérateurs have succeeded in convincing men that all things tell of God, we accept their service with due thanks. But they do not stop here. According to them, this omnipresent divinity culminates in man, finds in him its only conscious manifestation. As a sequence comes the mandate, "Fall down and worship" him. The most gifted, or, more correctly, the most Divine man is the worthiest object of worship. And literature, being the interpreter of this ubiquitous divinity, becomes, in the exercise of its function, not merely religious, but religion, "the most authentic worship."

Now the peculiar danger from this teaching, of which we have confessed an apprehension, springs mainly from the fact that it contains an element of truth, capable of being so presented as to divert attention from the pernicious error in which it terminates. The nobility of man, and the grandeur of his terrestrial home, are themes likeliest of all others to be greeted with a cordial welcome. Yet, were the system of these soi-disant teachers broadly and determinately stated in their writings, were it explicitly affirmed that there is no being more Divine than man, the danger hence arising would be insignificant. We retain an unshaken faith in the strength and universality of that religious instinct which, as a stern voice in every human bosom, evermore appeals from such an affirmation. The consciousness of men, irrespective of creed or condition, is a testimony, variable only in strength, to the existence of something higher and more Divine than man. Not easily, therefore, can men be induced to accept a dogma so contradictory of their most sacred impulses, unless it be foisted upon them, unless the abhorrent

potion be rendered inviting by foreign mixture. And this is the precise manner of its presentation, at least in the writings of Mr. Carlyle. Nowhere does he, in systematic outline, develop his scheme. It is, for the most part, an undertone, only now and then rising to audible distinctness. The doctrine, which, if nakedly presented, would excite a general revulsion, is so interwoven with important and strongly-expressed truth, as to necessitate for its detection a keener discrimination than most persons are apt to exercise. In quasireligious dialect, there is abundant talk about "Maker's laws," "Sinai thunder," "Gospels," "reverences," and the like; but, when the drift is ascertained, it is only too evident that the real meaning, of which this diction is made the vehicle, is far other than its use would naturally suggest. Under cover of belabouring the shams and inveracities of the age, occasion is sought to deal out blows, as fierce as deadly, against all that is most real and veritable within the range of human cognizance. Thus, as in the case of the olden apple, the goodly appearance of the bait constitutes its chief allurement. As the skiff, seemingly impelled by its "own sweet will," glides smoothly down some untried stream, its occupant the while, entranced with beautiful visions of the shore, being all unconscious of the nearing rapids and the cataract beyond, till, when too late, the roar of falling waters breaks the spell, so, there is reason to fear, the unwary who commit themselves to the current which, in the writings of this school, sweeps away with strong and majestic flow, amid surroundings of confessed truthfulness and beauty, toward the shores of a godless Pantheism, will, in like manner, be lured to destruction.

That this is no imaginary danger, the saddest proof lies open to the gaze of all who, with slight attention, inspect the character and tendency of prevalent opinions. The ease with which a plausible error makes its way among men was, perhaps, never more strikingly illustrated. Already its influence is wide-spread. The press, in a whole class of its publications, ranging from the sheet of daily issue up to the carefully-edited volume, is flooding the age with sentiments of which, amid whatever minor diversity, generic identity is predicable; sentiments whose essential characteristic is the assertion that all genuine improvement in men is merely a development of some latent good of their nature, and that this development can proceed independent of Divine spiritual aid. The pulpit, too, in some sadly notable instances, has lent itself to this unholy service. The result of the whole is that, in unwonted quarters, the concession that Christianity is what it claims to be is now withheld. In its stead we have the assertion, either explicit or by fair implication,

that Christianity is not the best, still less the sole, means of effecting genuine reform, as respects the individual or society. Hence it is either wholly set aside as superfluous, or, at most, is condescendingly invited to perform some under-service in the achievement of human melioration.

Believing that this result, relative to Christianity, is the ultimate goal-oftener concealed, however, than distinctly avowed-to which influences, at present widely diffused and busily at work, inevitably tend, we hail, with a degree of pleasure not excited by any recent publication we have seen, the book whose title stands at the head of this paper. If we do not misjudge, it bears the promise of an efficient counteraction of those tendencies which, with some minuteness, we have endeavoured truthfully to exhibit, certainly have not over-stated. To do this is the author's chief aim. forms of error are dealt with in the course of the performance; but the principal force of his argument is levelled against that lurking Pantheism, which, to so great an extent, now pollutes the sanctuaries of thought and feeling.

Other

The author regards Mr. Carlyle as the Anglican exponent and chief propagandist of this modified Pantheism. Against his repre-sentation of it therefore, he mainly directs his attack. Overlooking the crowd of aping servitors who have gathered to his standard, he singles out and engages the champion himself, rightly judging that, if Goliath be slain, the Philistines will disband.

It can scarcely fail to conciliate those who witness this contest, as it transpires on his page, that he avows, and everywhere evinces, the highest appreciation of what Mr. Carlyle is, and has done. His admiration of his genius borders on extravagance. He regards the age as owing him an immense debt, in that he has brought to its recollection certain important, but nearly forgotten truths. He confesses to a personal obligation for the favourable influence of hist writings on his own style and mode of thought. Surely, then, an eye so friendly will not discern errors were none exist. A mind obviously strong and healthy, free of eccentricity, will not capriciously. turn against a friend. The blow that falls reluctantly, is not dealt without a cause. The manly fairness, too, which characterizes the manner of the controversy, can but disarm prejudice, and secure a favourable hearing for the results which in its course are reached. Few, indeed, are the instances of debate so serious being conducted in a manner so calm. Truth, rather than triumph, is the obvious aim. He states Mr. Carlyle's positions with an accuracy which no one, who has pondered his writings with sufficient care to get their meaning, can fail to accord; and then follows those positions to their FOURTH SERIES, VOL. VIII.-35