century and a half, to command the general admiration of Europe,* Grotius continued, even in our British universities, the acknowledged oracle of jurisprudence and of ethics, till long after the death of Montesquieu. Nor was Bacon himself unapprised of the slow growth of his posthumous fame.

No writer seems ever to have felt more deeply, that he properly belonged to a later and more enlightened age-a sentiment which he has pathetically expressed in that clause of his testament, where he "bequeaths his name to posterity, after some generations shall be past."

SIR,

THO

THOMSON.

HOSE who contend for the affinities of religion and poetry, can scarcely refuse to give the preference to that system which teaches that all the children of men are destined to be finally and immortally happy. This doctrine has more of the grand, the beautiful and the joyous: it opens to imagination more glorious vistas; it encircles us with more beatific visions; it supplies more firm and abiding objects on which the soul can repose, than any other hope of future joy which "it has entered into the heart of man to conceive;" it bursts upon us in all "the glory and the freshness of a dream;" it enables us to extend our anticipations far into the abyss of fu

"La célébrité en France des écrits du Chancelier Bacon n'a guere pour date que celle de l'Encyclopédie." (Histoire des Mathématiques par Montucla, Preface, p. ix.) It is an extraordinary circumstance, that Bayle, who has so often wasted his erudition and acuteness on the most insignificant characters, and to whom Le Clerc has very justly ascribed the merit of une exactitude étonnante dans des choses de néant, should have devoted to Bacon only twelve lines of his Dictionary.

turity without trembling, to dwell on the idea of God with nothing but de light, to identify the feeling of immortality with that of joy; it does that for the species which the orthodox system of Christianity does only for the individual who receives it; it robs death of its sting and deprives the grave of its victory.

The happiness which the most confident believer in the doctrines of Calvin anticipates in heaven is both selfish and imperfect: it is built on the ruins of the best and tenderest affections, for it implies an eternal separation from many who are objects of regard now, from some perhaps who have been more passionately loved even for their errors, or who are knit to the heart by ties so strong and sacred that no human frailty can sever them. In order to enjoy it, the most disinterested of all emotions must be torn from the heart, attachments cemented by the courtesies and the distresses of life must be rent in twain, early loves must lose their charm, and the holiest instincts of nature must wither and die within us! Not only must the profligate child, on whom the heart delighted, as it were, to waste its tenderness-the Absalom loved in the midst of rebellion and vice above his brethren-be dear to us no more; but we must forget the friend who, though associating with us in deeds of charity, professed not to have experienced any supernatural change; we must learn to think with tranquillity on the sufferings of him, who, though the benefactor of earth, was not the favourite of heaven; we must be callous to The misery of an old and dear companion, who, endowed with all that could render life delightful, did not agree with us in certain speculative points of faith? With those who cheered our passage through this vale of tears we must sympathize no longer. The deathless agonies of those on whose

bosoms we have leaned as a sacred resting place, must have no power to break our blissful repose.* We must, in short, become different beings, not merely in being purified from the pollutions of earth, but in losing our best and most virtuous affections, our most serene and unfading joys. Our human hearts must die away within us. I confess myself I have no interest in another life, if it is to bring with it such a change. It is not I who am to be happy hereafter this heart which is to beat, these sympathies that are to flourish, these powers that are to be unfolded, these tastes by which I am to enjoy. And who is there who would change his individuality for that of another, even to be made better, wiser, or happier? Who would resign his friends and relatives for those who would be greater or worthier of his esteem? Who, that is worthy the name of man, would forget for ever those who have loved and cherished him, to be the companion of saints and martyrs, or the favourite of angels?

Not such are the everlasting hopes which the doctrine of Universal Restoration awakens within those who receive it. This belief not only assures us of personal happiness, but it makes that happiness consist, in a great degree, in its diffusion on all around us: it enables us to associate all whom we esteem in our joys: it opens to us the grandest prospects of human improve inent, discloses the statelier vistas of increasing knowledge, happiness and virtue, and gives us the noblest ideas of the dignity of our nature which is preparing for such glorious destinies: it realizes youth's most gorgeous and vi sionary dreams: it enables us to look back on the mighty deeds of past times with a new interest, for it displays them as so many deathless monuments of the innate dignity of man, and as glorious

The orthodox heaven would be an exact realization of Mr. Godwin's theory of Political Justice. As recommended by that ingenious speculator, all peculiar regards must cease, gratitude must be done away, natural affection must be extinguished, and we must love and esteem only according to the abstract merit or godliness of the individual. The Calvinist may perhaps be surprised to find that the system against which on its promulgation, he lavished every expression of scorn and disgust, is to be realized by himself-in heaven!

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proofs of what he will be hereafter? but it is chiefly welcome to the heart, as making its sweetest emotions deathless, and leaving its own peculiar objects of desire to rest on the splendid prospects which it reveals. It is this principle and this alone which renders friendship and love immortal.

According to the orthodox system of future punishment, the noblest and most divine faculties must, in many instances, be left to perish.* The "strong divinity of soul" has sometimes been mingled with human frailties, and the intoxication of heart produced by poetical inspiration has caused the poet to overleap the virtuous usages of life, and to follow without moderation the impulse of his pleasurable sensations. The pure and deep spring of celestial delight has been sullied in its passage through the world: and yet the generous would discern, even amidst irregularity and vice, the stirrings of a principle allied to the noblest sublimities of virtue, vast capacities for excellence, and bright indications of a celestial origin. "The light that led astray was light from heaven." The kindliest virtues and the most sublime energies have been too often linked with imperfections which have shaded or rendered them useless. But how inspiring is the belief that these powers and these excellencies shall yet be immortal, assoiled from the corruptions of earth when its temptations are removed from them, and tuned to heighten the joys of Paradise! How cheering is the thought that the heroes and sages of ancient story, who, amidst error and darkness, displayed a majesty of soul which has awed distant generations, are destined to obtain yet greener lau

Soon after the commencement of the

Eclectic Review, some writer opposing theatrical entertainments, with something more than usual zeal, alluded to the spirit of Shakspeare as mourning in the everlasting torments of hell the evils caused by his writings. It was formerly said with reference to the disposition of the two reformers," that it would be better to go to hell with Melancthon than to heaven with Calvin;" and some perhaps would be inclined to make the same choice between Shakspeare and the Reviewer. It is but just to add, that the Eclectic Review bas since that time greatly improved both in talent and feeling, and would now probably treat the fate of the greatest poet who ever lived only with a mysterious silence,"

rels, and to rise up again in the light of a holier virtue! How glorious is the prospect of mighty minds, on earth benighted, bursting into the full enjoyment of truth-of unknown energies unfolding their native grandeur of genius here debased or unknown, tasting of ever fresh inspiration from "Siloa's brook that flows fast by the oracle of God!"

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Around those who are enabled to realize the doctrine of Universal Restoration the arrows of misfortune fall harmless. The malignant passions can find no resting place in their bosoms. They look on the most wretched and depraved of the human race as brethren, as ultimately destined to be come worthy of their esteem and affection, as erring children of their own Father, who will finally bring all the wanderers home. The ills of life and the burden of all material things are lightened to them by the fond belief that all are parts of one generous system of fatherly compassion. To them the face of nature seems enlivened by new smiles, for all the beauties which surround them appear indications of that universal goodness which will harmonize all the jarring notes of this discordant world. Every summer breeze whispers to them of unutterable love. The splendour in the grass, the glory in the flower," which delighted them in childhood, seem almost to sparkle again before them. Their virtue is unimpelled by fear and unmingled with pride, for its origin and its essence is joy. Death seems to them as a placid slumber, as a genial repose which will take away all evil thoughts and desires, and will leave them refreshed from their labours, and purified and fitted for heaven. When they weep over friends whose eyes they have closed for awhile, no sad misgivings will disturb the serenity of their sorrow, or cloud over the sweet remembrances which they delight to cherish. To them the memory of buried love will have all its unearthly charms, for the sanctity of their grief will be unbroken. They will be elevated above the world, and yet taste with more exquisite relish all its genuine blessings. Their delight will be to look on the better and more engaging parts of human nature; they will follow the domestic affections to

their loveliest seclusion, trace out the nice and delicate indications of good

ness, which others pass by unheeded, and derive from them all fresh proofs of the noble destiny for which we were created. They will rejoice in the joy of all men, trace the progressive ad vancement of truth and virtue with honest pride, and catch, as if it were the music of angels, the low breathed voice of humble gratitude, or the first lispings of infant prayer

"to which God's own ear Listens delighted."

Here I might conclude these Essays. I trust I have, in some degree, shewn that the poetry of religion is not confined to the orthodox creed, nor the best feelings of the heart exclusively possessed by the followers of Calvin. But let me not offend my Unitarian friends, if I entreat them to cultivate and cherish those emotions to which, I apprehend, their opinions should conduct them. Let them not think that man is ennobled by his reason alone, or that abstract truth is the only object he ought to pursue. Let them remember that he has imagination to be called into exercise, veneration to bo bestowed, and tender affections to gratify. Let them not return persecution with scorn. Let them never despise prejudices which are honest, or speak with contempt of doctrines which have consoled the hearts of thousands, because they regard them as erroneous. Let not the pride of reason or the fas tidiousness of criticism pollute the sources of their joys. Let them remember that the toleration is imperfect which is not extended to intolerance itself; and that even in the bigotry of those who think their opinions dangerous, there is a feeling of zeal for their welfare to venerate and esteem. While engaged in the defence of truth let them remember that it is of more consequence to feel right than to argue well; that the best orthodoxy is that of the heart; and that while sentiments and creeds and systems perish, the best and purest feelings of the soul remain unchanged-the same in all sects, countries and generations-and that they will continue while God himself endures. S.N.D.

Last Day" and the expostulation of the damned soul, which thus begins

Who burst the barriers of my peaceful grave?

Ah! cruel Death! that would no longer save,

But grudg'd me e'en that narrow, dark abode,

And cast me out into the wrath of God."

Towards the close of his address, the miserable victim of divine vengeance is thus made to recollect the paternal character of God:

"And canst thou then look down from perfect bliss,

And see me plunging in the dark abyss,
Calling thee Father, in a sea of fire,
Or pouring blasphemies at thy desire?"

Mr. John Wesley, many years before his death, and during the life of Young, re-published, in a Collection of English Poems, (3 vols. 8vo.) "The Last Day." He was aware of the inconsistency into which the orthodox poet had fallen, and annexed to the lines I have just quoted the following note, in substance, if my memory has failed me as to the exact words: "Impossible! Could a damned soul speak thus, would he not in a moment be in Abraham's bosom?"

Your Correspondent (p. 326) appears not to be aware of the question which has been raised whether the Treatise to which he refers was written by Jeremy Taylor. I suppose he intends the Contemplations of the State of Man in this Life and in that which is to come," the eighth edition of which, 8vo. 1718, is now before me. It is confessedly posthumous. Prefixed are two Addresses to the Reader. The first signed B. Hale, D.D. is highly commendatory, without a word as to authenticity: the second Address, signed Robert Harris, describes Bishop Taylor as "having left these Holy Contemplations in the hands of a worthy friend of his, with a full purpose to have printed them if he had lived."

I have understood, on the best authority, that the Editor of "Specimens of Early Dramatic Poets," a gentleman critically versed in the fine writers of Jeremy Taylor's age, is of opinion that the Contemplations, though containing passages in his manner, were not written by the Bishop. There appears no evidence for assigning them to him,

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lightened clergyman of the Establishment to a Dissenting minister, whose Unitarianism lately compelled him to resign his congregation, with whom he was connected almost twenty-six years.

"Dear Sir.-Those who wish to worship any more Gods than one, ought to go to the East Indies, and prostrate themselves before the idol of that country."

The whole letter is written in the same strain, virtually acknowledging no God but the One God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and condemning all encroachments upon the dictates of reason, and all impositions upon the rights of conscience, as diametrically opposite to the glorious doctrines of the gospel. As there are well known to be a great number of clergymen of the same sentiments, why do they not unite in petitioning the legislature, and, to use the language of sailors when they are aroused to exert their utmost exertions, with a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together, claim the privileges of the children of God, and desire to be permitted to obey his voice, in the language of their own hearts, and according to their most strenuous endeavours to understand and propagate the reve lation he has given them. Our legislators are not at present Calvinists or Laudeans. Many of them are lovers of truth, and none of them can stand up and say that this or that Shibboleth should be required of men, when contrary to the light of their own minds, and what they believe to be the word of God. Whatever erroneous sentiments many of them may entertain at present, let them all be allowed to declare themselves unequivocally, and truth will be a gainer in the end. It will shine with glory by a free discus sion. Or if any subscription be yet thought necessary in those who undertake the office of minister, let it be this only, I believe in the Holy Scriptures, and by the divine blessing

will endeavour to explain them in their original purity, according to the uniform declarations of the unadulterated Bible." But this latitude, it will be said, will produce almost as many creeds as there are men. I think, on the contrary, that it will soon terminate in the universal reception of the good word of truth, and lead all men to embrace that holy church, in which there is no spot, nor wrinkle, nor any such thing. Voltaire, notwithstanding his great infidelity, believed that there is one God, one great and good God, the God of all beings, of all worlds, and of all ages: and, had he not supposed, without making that inquiry which became him, that the Trinity and some other unfounded doctrines were contained in the Bible; or, had he perceived that the Divine Unity, and that true holiness, &c. contained in the New Testament, were the real doctrines which the Lord Jesus taught, he never could have become an infidel, nor have ridiculed what he did not rightly examine, and therefore did not understand, A NEW TESTAMENT CHRISTIAN.

SIR,

August 1, 1816. HAVE heard it occasionally reI marked, that at one period of the history of the Christian church, it was in agitation, by some synod or council, to place the Virgin Mary as a person of the Trinity, in the room of the Holy Ghost. In referring to the remarks of Theototus, M. Repos. Vol. VI. page 399, I find some confirmation of it, as represented by the Novogorod Idol, and in the censures of such a Trinity by the Arabian Impostor: but setting aside such authorities, I should be glad to be informed by your more learned readers, if there be any other and better authority for such an assumption. J. W.

that he knew not the precise date of an event which he was yet empowered to predict (Mark xiii. 32); that he might well assume the very title about which so much controversy has arisen, and found his apology for assuming it on the ground that other missionaries of God had in Elohim arrogated a higher one than he did in that of Ben Elohim, John x. 36; that of himself he could do nothing, viii. 54; that if he bare witness of himself his witness were not true, v. 31; that the very words he spake, he spake not of himself, xii. 49, xiv. 10; hearing him, in short, referring every thing he said, and did, and was, as unequivocally, as invariably, as absolutely to that Being whom he called his Father, as any other pious man whom he had taught to address by the same endearing appellation could have done:-then superadding to this unimpeachable testimony the still (if possible) more unambiguous attestations of the Most Highest Himself at the several periods of his baptism, transfiguration and crucifixion, so admirably adapted in kind and in degree to the beloved Son," in whom of all human kind God deigned to express himself emphatically well pleased," so palpably infra dig. to a Being of an infinitely superior order:-and last and least, recollecting the remarkable incidents of the temptation, when this heavenly personage is accosted by another whom later ages have almost invested with the character of omniscient) as a "Son of God," who might haply not only be seduced from his allegiance to his Father by such a consideration as the kingdoms of this atom of the universe, yclept our world, but to transfer it, and with it the homage of religious worship, to his seducer, as the donor of them-who, ruminating I say over thus much, and more that might be adduced of a kindred description, regard the Christ in no other light the Son of God than as figuratively so constituted, or at most so miracu lously born as no other human being ever was before him. Yet, on the other hand, reading the proem of St. John's Gospel, surprising as they think they do the interpolation of the reporter at the 16th verse of his third chapter, not to mention a multitude of appositions, turns and probable emendations, sufficiently indicative as they hold of the historian's construction of the more