of Taylor, of Hall, and of Sanderson, deep in our memory and our heart. Thus Puritanism gave an effectual and permanent shock to the cheerful vigour and life of higher Theological learning, and repressed its genial current with a rude violence which it never recovered. On the Restoration, the dislike which was felt by the mass of the nation, towards the extravagances of Puritanism, at least disposed men's minds to submit with less disgust than they otherwise would, to the profligacy and infidelity which disgraced too many of the higher ranks. Infidelity, indeed, was so openly avowed, that this alone gave a new turn to the studies and thoughts of the divines of the day. It was their business to combat sophistry with sound reason, rather than mistaken dogmas with sound learning, and to this necessity we are indebted for a series of invaluable works in reply to the Deists, which have continued in almost unbroken suc

cession to the present day. Yet while we rejoice that these works exist, there having been, and being a necessity for them, we may deeply lament, that such a necessity existed and exists The perpetual weighing of evidences, the consideration of sophistry, the replying to fallacies, is any thing but a favourable employment for the

The

purifying and exalting the heart. The head it may improve; but the intellect is but one, and a smaller portion, of that great complex, the soul, which is the domain of religion. The moral nature is left by this employment, but too much untouched and unimproved. unfavourable nature of this employment of the powers of the mind was, I think, sufficiently visible in the writers of the early part of the last century. It is not, as some have said, that they ceased to hold the great truths of religion. On the contrary, they were able and willing to defend the truth, as it is in Jesus. But they did not feel that the citadel itself was in danger, or even assaulted, and therefore their attention was directed to the outworks, and they grew by natural consequence, proportionably colder, in feeling and affection, towards the citadel itself. When controversies go on for a long period, there comes over men, even men of higher mind, a most pernicious custom of putting every argument on the lowest ground. Partly to save trouble, by assuming only what the adversary allows-partly from a reliance on their own ingenuity, and from a confident belief that they can remain masters under every disadvantage of combat-partly, in process of time, from an

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ignorance of the full extent of their subject, which prevents their knowing what they may assume and then from the consequent cowardice which makes them shrink from defending what their ignorance, and that alone, makes them hold to be untenable ground, they begin by allowing all the lowest views of their lowest adversary. I readily allow, that only full acquaintance with a subject can enable a man to take high ground, or to keep it. But nothing can justify our undertaking to prosecute a great argument without a full acquaintance with it to its remotest depths. And if a writer possesses such knowledge, by what right, and with what justice does he leave the vantage ground, which he really possesses, and expose a great argument to disadvantage? It may be right enough, it may be necessary occasionally to argue with an individual in private on any grounds on which he will stand; i. e. if he will allow any truth; but to put forward a public argument, relinquishing the high grounds which may justly be taken, whether from indolence, or fear, or ignorance, is at once most injurious and culpable, injurious to the particular cause, which is thus unworthily pleaded, and injurious by sanctioning the practice of retiring quietly from great and important

truths, because they are not popular, or not allowed by our opponent, or not accounted liberal or philosophical. Such, however, was the practice of the last century, and its effects were as injurious as might well be expected. A school grew up with very peculiar and distinct features. They were acute and clear, and maintained the low ground on which they stood with remarkable dexterity and shrewdness. Terse and finished in their style, compact and complete within their own sphere, they never went beyond it. Content to dwell in decencies for ever, comprehensive views, courageous defence of high grounds, enthusiastic or even affectionate devotion to a great cause, is not to be expected from them; but you have, in lieu, a careful survey of all the narrow ground on which they are treading; they have marked well its towers and told all its bulwarks, and are ready for the defence of every tower, every bulwark, and every inch of ground; and that too, a careful, judicious, and clever defence. Their maxim evidently is to give up the greater in order to keep the less with certainty and safety, a maxim often dangerous, and often impossible to practise. But besides this, the natural effect of renouncing high views one's self, is to suspect or ridicule

them in others.

They who dare to hold them are considered as unreasonable, bigoted, impracticable; and what is called common sense, but what is, in good truth, a slavish and deliberate choice of low views instead of high ones, is made the guide of practice and the object of imitation. A good deal of humour is not an unfrequent attendant of this calm and cautious condition of mind, and this is used as freely in ridiculing what are considered the overstrained views of friends, as the falsehoods of foes. The inevitable consequence of this is a most unwholesome tone of mind, disposed to consider every thing which is not commonplace, as extravagant; every thing bold, as rash; every thing generous, as foolish; every thing like inflexible adherence to principle, as bigotry and violence. To fight for principle, in the eyes of such persons, can arise only from madness or wickedness; and they use the warfare of ridicule or censure accordingly.

If we wish for any proofs of this, and of the harm done by it, let us look to the notions entertained as to Church Government in the present day, which are to be ascribed wholly to these writers. Hooker, and Hall, Sanderson, and Pearson, and Leslie, dwelt with the ut