No. 81, of this truly excellent work had not reached us in time for the
close reading which it demands, and our "Notes" from it at present are
consequently few. The first in the number is a powerful paper on Dr.
Southey's _Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society_--"a
beautiful book," says the reviewer, "full of wisdom and devotion--of
poetry and feeling; conceived altogether in the spirit of other times,
such as the wise men of our own day may scoff at, but such as Evelyn, or
Isaak Walton, or Herbert would have delighted to honour." The work is in
general too polemical and political for our pages; but we may hereafter
be tempted to carve out a few pastoral pictures of the delightful
country round Keswick, where Dr. Southey resides. The present Review
contains but few extracts to our purpose, and is rather a paper on the
spirit of the _Colloquies_, than analytical of their merits. We take,
for example, the following admirable passage on the progress of
religious indifference; in which we break off somewhat hastily,
premising that the reader will be induced to turn to the Review itself
for the remainder of the article:--
There was a time, since the worship of images, (and happy would it have
been if the religious habits of the country had thenceforth stood
fixed,) when appropriate texts adorned the walls of the dwelling-rooms,
and children received at night a father's blessing;--and "let us worship
God" was said with solemn air, by the head of the household; and
churches were resorted to daily; and "the parson in journey" gave notice
for prayers in the hall of the inn--"for prayers and provender," quoth
he, "hinder no man;" and the cheerful angler, as he sat under the
willow-tree, watching his quill, trolled out a Christian catch. "Here we
may sit and pray, before death stops our breath;" and the merchant (like
the excellent Sutton, of the Charter House) thought how he could make
his merchandize subservient to the good of his fellow-citizens and the
glory of his God, and accordingly endowed some charitable, and learned,
and religious foundation, worthy of the munificence of a crowned head;
and the grave historian (Lord Clarendon himself does so) chose a text in
his Bible as a motto for his chapter on politics; and religion, in
short, reached unto every place, and, like Elisha stretched on the dead
child, (to use one of Jeremy Taylor's characteristic illustrations),
gave life and animation to every part of the body politic. But years
rolled on; and the original impulse given at the Reformation, and
augmented at the Rebellion, to undervalue all outward forms, has
silently continued to prevail, till, with the form of godliness, (much
of it, up doubt, objectionable, but much of it wholesome), the power in
a considerable degree expired too.
Accordingly, our churches are now closed in the week-days, for we are
too busy to repair to them; our politicians crying out, with Pharaoh,
"Ye are idle, ye are idle; therefore would ye go and do sacrifice to the
Lord." Our cathedrals, it is true, are still open; but where are the
worshippers? Instead of entering in, the citizen avails himself of the
excellent clock which is usually attached to them, sets his watch, and
hastens upon 'Change, where the congregation is numerous and punctual,
and where the theological speculations are apt to run in Shylock's vein
pretty exclusively. If a church will answer, then, indeed, a joint-stock
company springs up; and a church is raised with as much alacrity, and
upon the same principles, as a play-house. The day when the people
brought their gifts is gone by. The "_solid temples_," that heretofore
were built as if not to be dissolved till doomsday, have been succeeded
by thin emaciated structures, bloated out by coats of flatulent plaster,
and supported upon cast-metal pegs, which the courtesy of the times
calls pillars of the church. The painted windows, that admitted a dim
religious light, have given place to the cheap house-pane and dapper
green curtain. The front, with its florid reliefs and capacious crater,
has dwindled into a miserable basin.
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