prejudice, and the intolerance too often found in religious men, as demonstrating that everything belonging to the history of religion must be contemptible or vicious. The folly and crime which belong to the history of civil government do not demonstrate that government itself is a folly and a crime."

The evils

of bad government may be great, but the evils of no government would be greater. Horrors have been perpetrated in the name of religion; and what horrors have not been perpetrated in the name of order and liberty? The susceptibilities of religious thought and feeling in man which have made errors connected with religion possible are from the Creator: kings and priests do not create them, could not eradicate them."-P. 2.

All this is most true, and worthy of our reflection. Not only does the general advance of intelligence have its legitimate influence on religious convictions, but it should be understood that the errors and intolerance of past ages, which it is our business to hold up to view as things to be altogether avoided for the future, may often be regarded, historically, as having their necessary place in the development of human society. The analogy which the author suggests to us between a cruel military despotism and a persecuting priestly religion, is a very fair analogy, and worth pondering on. No one wants an absolute and capricious despot-no one hesitates a moment in denouncing such a government; and yet there was a time in the annals of mankind when the military tyrant, by uniting great multitudes of men under one common rule, was really advancing the cause of peace and of jurisprudence, and when his tyranny was really the best possible government. In like manner, the writer or the orator of the nineteenth century cannot be better employed than in denouncing persecution and the tyranny of priesthoods; yet here also it is clear that tyrannical priesthoods have in times past provided for the mass of the people the best religion they were capable of receiving. A very rude and ignorant people has no rational conviction, and can have none, on such a sub

ject as religion. In some way or other it must be led. Any power that is able to secure a wide conformity of opinion, and establish a faith conducive to morality, may be considered, in certain ages, as acting beneficently. "The susceptibilities," as our author says, "that lead us into error and intolerance are from the Creator: kings and priests do not create, could not eradicate them."

Even after a nation has passed through its stages of barbarism, there is a certain blind instinctive effort, so to speak, to organise itself under some uniform faith, which deserves our respect. It is by its universality that a faith becomes strong. Men are conscious of this; they feel that their own sense of certainty is shaken by the contradictions of others. They dimly feel that, if not truth, there will be peace and sense of certainty for all, if all will but think alike.

This general observation of Dr Vaughan's, which teaches us tolerance for the intolerance of the past, soon receives an application. The first revolution which he is called upon to notice is that nationalism, as he designates it, which was inaugurated by Henry VIII. Here we assuredly find a very harsh exercise of power, leading to what has been generally recognised, both by English politicians and English theologians, as a good result. For this nationalism not only separated the Anglican from the Universal or Catholic Church, and thus led the way to the Reformation, but it also stamped the character of the Reformation in after years. Nationalism came first, and a national and scholastic Protestantism afterwards.

But though Henry VIII. and a small party in the legislature may have been desirous of constructing a national church which should have differed from the Catholic only in its ecclesiastical organisation, it is plain that they could not have succeeded, even in the first step of disruption, if they had not been supported by a large party amongst the

people who were bent on a change in the doctrines themselves of the Catholic Church. It was this contemporary religious movement that enabled Henry to sever England from the great European hierarchy, and surmount his crown by some semblance of a tiara. It was the hope of finally shaking off altogether the yoke of Catholic doctrine which made serious and religious men view with complacency the transfer of a spiritual power to the monarch. There was always, indeed, a class of civilians and jurists who looked with jealousy on the "Italian priest," who resented the interference of the foreigner and the encroachment of the ecclesiastics. These would follow with pleasure the nationalising policy of Henry. But no faithful and religious Catholic could have been otherwise than scandalised and outraged by it. And it was the widespread defection amongst religiously disposed people that alone accounts for the almost passive acquiescence of a nation still bearing the name of Catholic in a measure so directly repugnant to all Catholic sentiment. Nationalism and Protestantism went on side by side; and at first nationalism, which triumphed by the secret aid of Protestantism, seemed to triumph also over its modest ally. Afterwards their relative positions were somewhat changed. But the history of these two movements, ending in the compromise of our present Church of England, constitutes the history of our Reformation.

What was essentially the Reformation? It was the revival of the Scriptures, and the exalting them into a position they never apparently had occupied before, as sole teachers of the religious faith of mankind. The enthusiastic men who received these oracles, giving their exclusive and unlimited faith to them-whether they are called Lutherans or Calvinists-form the real religious and aggressive element of the Reformation. In England this party was preceded by a

political movement which opened a way for it, but which modified its action, and under the protection of which it was compelled to come to some compromise even with the doctrines of the Catholic Church. But there was always a party amongst the Protestants who would not submit to any such compromise: these bear the name of Puritans. The power which the Tudors assumed over the religious worship, and even the religious faith or professions, of the people, was in itself as grievous and tyrannical as that power of the Pope it displaced. Nay, it was something still more formidable, for it lay close at hand, and could send its victim most expeditiously to the stake, or the block, or the prison. But, on the other hand, it probably relieved the nation from a new priestly tyranny that might otherwise spring out of the Reformation itself. If our Reformation had proceeded entirely from the people, as led by their favourite pastors-if it had been exclusively a religious movement-the Reformed Church, according to the strong tendency of the times, would have sought, not freedom only, but predominance over the State. All churches, all religious bodies, resemble each other in one respect: they naturally develop for themselves an organisation based exclusively on religious ideas, and they quite as naturally regard this organisation as having a supremacy over all merely mundane or temporal institutions. The Catholic and Puritan would perfectly agree in this, that no civil power ought to interfere with spiritual affairs; and, moreover, that wherever the spiritual power has a word to say on temporal affairs, that word should be of supreme authority, and find, in the civil magistrate, a faithful servant and administrator. The strong hand of Henry VIII. placed the political power of King and Parliament above the priesthood or the clergy. It may be said that the diversity of sects that would have spontaneously arisen under the Re

formation (if the civil power had exercised no control over the formation of opinion) would have prevented any one sect from obtaining a predominance in the state. But carrying our minds back to the intellectual condition of the people under the Tudors, we can hardly wish that there had been at that time a perfect freedom for sectarian development. The action of the State, in labouring for some uniformity of creed amongst the people, appears to us upon the whole to have been beneficent, although we certainly cannot always trace a very benevolent spirit in the actors themselves.

Nothing could be more weak or shallow, as Dr Vaughan justly observes, than to attribute the Reformation in England to the angry passions of Henry VIII. On the other hand, it would be equally absurd to attribute to Henry VIII. any desire to reform our religion at all. His rupture with the Court of Rome was with him a quite personal affair he found himself the sport of Pope and Emperor, and resolved at last, like a bold monarch as he was, to do without a Pope. The state of public opinion at the time enabled him to have his will; and we, looking back, are well content that he should have seized for himself, and for succeeding governments in England, a legislative and administrative supremacy over the affairs of the Church. But we cannot admire for a moment the conduct of the man. It was cruel, unreasonable, tyrannical. We have no wish to represent this monarch as altogether divested of princely virtues. In the earlier period of his life he won the golden opinions of the world, and he appears to have entered on his kingly office with some sense of kingly duty: he was then a conscientious man; but his natural temper was not benign. Fretted by the Pope, spoilt by the people, unhappy in his matrimonial relations, soured and hardened (as most men are who enter them) by theological controversies, he grew

to be a coarse, dogmatic, brutal tyrant. Mr Froude has opened a discussion on the character of this monarch. We think that the problem, such as it is, had been already solved by Sharon Turner, who, in his history of this reign, draws attention to the marked difference between the earlier and later portions of it-between the younger and the older king-between the Henry who had Wolsey for his minister, and the Henry who sent Sir Thomas More to the scaffold. Having once broken with the Pope, and resolved to be Pope in his own dominions, no man ever trod more ruthlessly on the religious convictions of others. And, because his own design was one essentially of political ambition, he persisted in declaring that the conscientious and religious opposition he met with was essentially treason and rebellion. What had the poor Carthusians, for instance, to do with treason and rebellion, who desired only to proceed with their prayers in peace, and were dragged from their retirement merely to make a declaration that violated one of their most rooted convictions and strongest of religious sentiments? It may be worth while to recall this characteristic incident as recorded by Dr Vaughan:

"Haughton and his monks appear to have been pious, conscientious, and simple-minded men. They had hesitated to take the Succession Oath, and the prior had been sent to the Tower on that ground. But, after a painful struggle, he had conformed, and the brotherhood under him had followed his example. The Oath of Supremacy, however, was, to consciences already somewhat ill at ease, a still greater difficulty. The conclusion of the inmates of the Charter House was, that they could not take it. Being thus resolved, they confessed themselves one to another, partook of the Eucharist together, and awaited their fate as men already condemned.

"When examined, they declined to persuasions, terror, produced no impres take the prescribed oath. Reasonings, sion on those men. So their fate was sealed; and Haughton then stated plainly, in behalf of himself and his brethren, the

ground of their refusal. It was, that they could not, without peril to their souls, cede that authority to the King in religious matters which they believed to be due only to the Pope. The three priors, and a monk of great reputation for piety named Reynolds, were sentenced to die the death of traitors. They all suffered at Tyburn, and, to add to the startling effect of subjecting such men to so barbarous a death, they were all sent to the place of execution in the habit of their order. Haughton suffered first, and his companions were urged in succession to avoid the same dreadful end by submission, but in vain. Six weeks later, three monks from the Charter House suffered at the same place for the same offence."

The most learned man of England took his stand with the Carthusian friars. Sir Thomas More, with lawyer-like precision, defined the duty he owed to the monarch and the state, and was willing to perform it. An oath of fidelity to the King and the successors to the throne he and the Parliament should appoint, he was prepared to take. But why was he singled out to pronounce, in the most solemn manner, an opinion on the headship of the Church? He refused to perjure himself by expressing an opinion in palpable contradiction to his Catholic faith. One is tempted, at first, to regret the martyrdom of Sir Thomas More, as if it were a life lost for no good purpose-the cause he suffered for wins so little of our sympathy. He does not come before us as an enthusiastic devotee; he seems to die for a theory: it looks so cold a martyrdom. Perhaps he was more of the pietist than is generally thought: he bequeaths to his daughter "his hair shirt and the whip he scourged himself with;" but however that may be, if he were not so great an enthusiast in religion as martyrs generally are, he is still entitled to all the bonours of a martyrdom for truth-speaking. His very coolness of temperament and self-possession should give him a peculiar title to our respect. What had this learned civilian, this jest-loving lawyer, you say, to do with martyrdom? What indeed? He sought it not. But you want him publicly to affirm a

proposition he dissents from, and he closes his lips: he will not utter the lie; you may carry him to the block first.

The trial accorded to Sir Thomas More was a mere mockery. The true cause of his death was his refusal to take the oath, but he was condemned and executed on the charge of having spoken treasonable words. And these words were proved by the evidence of one witness, Rich, who in this transaction can be regarded in no other light than the spy and agent of the Government. The King had grown headstrong and bloodthirsty. He was preparing himself by such cruelties for the most disgraceful act that English history has to record of any of our kings. This head of the Church and head of the chivalry of England, after being married to Anne Boleyn for three years, sees another woman whom he finds more captivating: he charges his wife with adultery; he decapitates her; he does it with a brutal joy; he dresses himself on the very day of her execution ostentatiously in white, and makes the Tower gun, which tells that his wife's head has been severed from her body, the signal for himself and for his hounds to begin the hunt! Was she guilty, this poor Anne Boleyn? We think not. We confidently assert that her guilt is "not proven;" we have no evidence against her that stands examination; we have nothing but the sentence of her judges, which we are surprised that Mr Froude should lay much stress upon, since it was evident that he who found her innocent must calculate on drawing the King's wrath down upon himself. The King was, in fact, both accuser and judge; and every one was at his service, from the spy upon her unguarded moments to the confessor, who probably put that last speech into her mouth with which she went to the block. Not guilty, we say, judg ing according to the evidence adduced. But say she was guilty-the man who thus destroyed his wife

should have his spurs of knight hood hacked from his heels: he has sunk to the vindictiveness of a savage.

But we had no intention to diverge upon the personal character of Henry VIII. We had to take notice of the nationalism which was peculiarly his work, and to observe that this determination which he and his successors manifested to usurp the government of religion, was, notwithstanding the tyrannous violence and persecution that accompanied it, a fortunate event in the history of England. The great and genuine Protestant movement, which was already stirring the people, was thereby restrained and modified in its future development. A compromise between the old and the new religions was rendered possible under the arbitration of the civil power; and the extreme influence or domination of a Protestant clergy was never put forth upon Protestant England.

Henry dies, head of a national church still boastful of pure Catholic doctrine. The six articles passed to confirm such of these doctrines as were most exposed to attack were the law of the land at the time of his death. Then comes upon the stage the young Edward, and the spiritual reign of Cranmer, under whom the real Reformation makes its well-known progress. English literature has been lately enriched by two very opposite portraitures of the Archbishop of Canterbury, from two most able pens. Macaulay, in one of his admirable reviews, has not only denied to him the honours of martyrdom, but has stamped him with duplicity and subserviency, and found in him a courtier's ambition as well as the timidity of a scholar. With his bold and powerful pencil, he has sketched in a portrait from which every grace is banished; Froude, on the contrary, has quietly reinstated him on the canvass, a grave and saintly figure, with the English Prayer-Book, his beloved task-work, in his hand. Perhaps, by the study

of the two, a fair appreciation of our most active and influential, if not our greatest reformer, might be arrived at. We can hardly place him in the rank of martyrs. He would, and he did recant to save his life; and it was only when he discovered that, whether he recanted or not, his enemies were resolved upon his death, that he assumed the attitude of the martyr. He shared-as who did not ?-the persecuting spirit of the times; from his very position, he was a courtier as well as a priest; and the very cause which, as a theologian, his heart was set upon, he had to promote by subserviency to men in power. But let this be said in his praise, his heart was set upon the great cause of a reformation in religion. Whatever personal ambition he may have had, this was still the main object of his life. If he could not willingly die for it, he lived and worked for it. He who has a great object of this kind in constant view, and works for it, is a far more serviceable man than one who can only die for it. And throughout a long life Cranmer did work for his great object zealously and effectively, though not always in that high heroic mood in which one wishes to see a great cause advanced. He was not a man of the heroic type; and all that can be said is, that if he had been such a man, he must soon have vanished from the scene.

He had to thread his way through dark and winding paths before he could emerge upon us with the English Prayer-Book in his hand.

Dr Vaughan, we think, gives a very fair summary of the life and character of Cranmer; and as it is right that he should be heard, and not ourselves, on this occasion, we will proceed to quote some portion of it. If it is necessary to classify every historian as one who either attacks or defends a celebrated character of this description, we must reckon our present author amongst those who have written in the vindication of Cranmer. We have here a not unfair yet indul