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from humble life for their promising parts and good dispositions, to be brought up in learning. He foresaw too surely what consequences must result from the impoverishment of the church, and the consequent ignorance of the clergy, and in his own person did all that an individual could do, both by precept and example, toward averting the evil.
It would have been fortunate for Hooker if Jewell's life had been prolonged to a good old age, and it had been fortunate for the see also, which was grievously injured during Elizabeth's reign, when, through her favour, Sir Walter Raleigh despoiled it of the castle, park, and parsonage of Sherbourne ; a transaction of which that remarkable person had the sin and the shame without ever enjoying what he had so unworthily obtained. 'He got it,' says Sir John Harrington,' with much labour and travail, and cost, and envy, and obloquy, to him and his heirs, habendum et tenendum—but ere it came to gaudendum, see what became of him!' Bishop Coldwell, who consented to this spoliation, is called by his contemporaries 'the second party delinquent in this plain sacrilege,' and seems to have been tempted to such betrayal of his trust by habits of reckless expenditure, no bishop of Sarum having died so notoriously in debt. His friends even buried him 'suddenly and secretly,' sine lux, sine crux, sine clerico, as the old by-word is,'lest his body should be arrested.' The alienation was confirmed by his successor Bishop Cotton, who is excused because he must otherwise have incurred the evil of a tedious suit against a powerful enemy. He was remarkable for having nineteen children by one wife, whose name was Patience—upon which Harrington takes occasion to say, 'the name I have heard in few wives, the quality in none.'
Fuller has not stated which bishop of Salisbury it was, who, when he held the small living of Hogginton, had to deal with 'a peremptory anabaptist.' This stiff personage said to him, 'it goes against my conscience to pay you tithes, except you can show me a place of scripture whereby they are due to you.' The doctor returned,' why should it not go as much against my conscience that you should enjoy your nine parts, for which you can show no place of scripture?' To whom the other rejoined,' But I have for my land deeds and evidences from my fathers, who purchased, and were peaceably possessed thereof, by the laws of the land.' 'The same is my title,' said the doctor, 'being confirmed unto me by many statutes of the land, time out of mind.' 'Thus he drove that nail, which was not of the strongest metal, or sharpest point, but which would go best for the present.' It was argumentum ad hominem fittest for the person he was to meddle with, who afterwards peaceably paid his tithes unto him.' This
may may probably have been Bishop Davenant, who was a Cambridge man, and was raised to that see on his return from the synod of Dort. Davenant left to his college a rent-charge of thirty-one pounds ten shillings, for the founding of two Bible clubs, and to purchase books for the use of the college.
During the calamitous years of the Great Rebellion the see was held by Duppa, who proved himself alike worthy of his station in prosperous and in adverse times. Among the many legacies which he bequeathed for charitable and religious purposes, was one of £500 to be expended in the repair of Salisbury Cathedral. The sum appears to have been ill-spent in what Mr. Britton notices as some 'material but not very tasteful alterations' in the choir. There was no want of munificence in the bishops of that age. During the short time that Exeter was held by the villainous Gauden, he, in his impatience to be translated to a richer see, left both the Bishop's Palace and the Cathedral as he found them; the former in possession of a sugar-baker, and 'put to the sweet use' of that trade; the latter divided between the Presbyterians and Independents, and disfigured in the manner of a Scotch cathedral. And there were shops in it! That base impostor was not permitted to enjoy the fruits of his wickedness. Soon after his departure the leases fell in unexpectedly, (for he had complained 'that neither rent nor fine were expectable for a long time in any such proportion as could support him;') and his successor, Seth Ward, from the funds which were thus at his disposal, expended nearly ,£25,000 upon the cathedral. Bishop Ward carried with him the same spirit when he was removed to Salisbury. There he employed Sir Christopher Wren to survey the cathedral, and repaired both it and the palace at his own expense. There too he built and endowed his College of Matrons, for the support of ten clergymen's widows. A college he named it, and used to express his dislike if at any time he heard it called an hospital; for,said he,' many of these persons are well descended, and have lived in good reputation. I would not have it said of them that they were reduced to an hospital, but retired to a college, which has a more honourable sound.' There was the grace as well as the virtue of charity in this—qualities which man has too often put asunder, when they never ought to be divorced.
Ward just lived till the Revolution. Of the bishops who have held the see since that epoch, it is sufficient to mention Burnet, Hoadley, Sherlock and Douglas, as names which must always be conspicuous in the history of the English church, and in English literature. To these the name of Burgess may now be added. It has been our fortune to differ in opinion from this exemplary prelate upon certain disputed points of criticism; but with far greater
satisfaction satisfaction do we bear testimony to his erudition, his beneficence, and that regard to the interests of his diocese, which will long be remembered and felt in the diocese of St. David's. The records of every English cathedral are not less rich in the names of men, who having ably and well discharged their duties while they lived, have in like manner left their works and their example to posterity—a reflection of which Englishmen might well be proud, if gratitude were not the emotion which we ought to feel toward that Providence under which the Church of England has been cleared of Romish superstitions, and delivered from Romish tyranny; raised from its ruins when it had been overthrown by sectarian madness; and from that time upheld in peace, to the blessing of these kingdoms.
Concerning the alterations in Salisbury Cathedral, which were made when the late excellent Bishop of Durham held that see, and which called forth so much discussion some thirty years ago, Mr. Britton has rather intimated than expressed his opinion. This good has arisen from the injury which was done there, that in subsequent undertakings of the same kind, the architect has come to his work with greater respect for the structures upon which he was employed, and a mind more embued with the principles of Gothic architecture. A beautiful example of this may be seen at Winchester, where every thing that has been done is consonant to the character of the building. Nevertheless it should seem that these national monuments, for such pre-eminently they are, ought, as such, to be under national superintendence. Most of them have funds for keeping them in repair; there is now little danger that these funds should be diverted from their proper purpose, (as they sometimes have been in former times,) nor that, when directed to the use for which they were appropriated, they should be injudiciously and injuriously applied. But these funds do not exist in every instance, nor are they always adequate to the required expenditure; and moreover there are other churches, originally of the same class, which when they lost their rank, were despoiled of their revenues also, and which are now suffering from time so greatly, that if their decay remain much longer unremedied, it must become irremediable. There is Hexham, for example, which for our own honour, as well as in becoming respect to our forefathers, ought to be preserved, while it is yet possible to preserve it. May we not then venture to suggest that these monuments of elder piety and of surpassing art, have a claim upon that national liberality which, not with the assent merely, but with the approbation of all parties in the state, has of late years most worthily been displayed in enriching our national collections with those treasures which it becomes a great nation to possess? and that government would consult the interest, and deserve the thanks of future ages, by appointing a commission to examine into the state of these national edifices, with the view of taking adequate measures for preserving what no expenditure could possibly replace?
There is one class of men, indeed, by whom any such measures would be opposed; and the temper and the capacity of that class have been admirably illustrated by Berkeley, when he represents himself as walking in St. Paul's, and meditating on the analogy between the building itself and the Christian church in its largest sense.
'The divine order and economy of the one,' he says, 'seemed to be emblematically set forth by the just, plain, and majestic architecture of the other. And as the one consists of a great variety of parts united in the same regular design, according to the truest art and most exact pro* portion; so the other contains a decent subordination of members, various sacred institutions, sublime doctrines, and solid precepts of morality digested into the same design, and with an admirable concurrence tending to one view—the happiness and exaltation of human nature. In the midst of my contemplation, I beheld a fly upon one of the pillars; and it straightway came into my head, that the same fly was a free-thinker; for it required some comprehension in the eye of the spectator, to take in atone view the various parts of the building, in order to observe their symmetry and design. But to the fly, whose prospect was confined to a little part of one of the stones of a single pillar, the joint beauty of the whole, or the distinct use of its parts, were inconspicuous; and nothing could appear but small inequalities on the surface of the hewn stone, which in the view of that insect seemed so many deformed rocks and precipices.'
It was said by a man of genius, that Westminster Abbey is part of the constitution. We cannot conclude better than by leaving the reader to reflect upon the serious truth which is conveyed in that lively expression.
Art. II.—Lives of the Novelists. By Sir Walter Scott. 2 vols. 12mo. Paris, Galignani. 1825. A FEW years ago there appeared at Edinburgh ten volumes in succession of a collection entitled Ballantyne's Novelists' Library, to which Sir Walter Scott supplied prefatory memoirs of the various authors whose works the publication included. The book had the additional recommendations of handsome type and paper, and careful printing—yet it does not seem to have met with success; at least we are at a loss to account otherwise for its sudden suspension, in a state of obvious incompleteness. In the meantime, Mr. Galignani has taken the liberty to detach Sir Walter's Memoirs from the bulky tomes in which they lay buried; and we hope our notice of his publication may induce those of whose property he has availed himself to imitate the shrewdness of his example. These essays are among the most agreeable specimens of biographical composition we are acquainted with: they contain a large assemblage of manly and sagacious remarks on human life and manners—and much ingenious criticism besides; and, thus presented in a compact form, must be considered as throwing a new and strong light upon a department of English literature, perhaps the most peculiar, certainly the most popular, and yet, we cannot help thinking, among the least studied of all that we possess.
It is acknowledged on all sides that the novel is the only form of composition to which modern invention can lay any claim; and as it has every appearance of being as natural a form as any that exists, it is no wonder that much speculation should have been expended on the causes of its remaining, to all intents and purposes, untouched by those who carried the drama on the one hand, and history on the other, to their classical perfection. It has been maintained by more than one ingenious writer that, in point of fact, the manners of antiquity did not present a field for this kind of delineation at all comparable to that which social life, as existing in modern times, supplies; that the division of the population into freemen and slaves necessarily abridged, in a miserable manner, the range and extent of social sympathies—and that the all but oriental separation of the sexes in the intercourse of higher life implied an if possible still more unhappy defect of humanizing interest. That these circumstances must have exerted a great and a most unfavourable influence on the whole being and form of ancient society there can be no question: but we must be excused for doubting whether any such influences ever did or could operate to the extent that has been assumed. We have the poets, the historians, the philosophers of antiquity before us; the fragments of its art are still the wonders of the world: and the influence of its intellect is stamped in indelible traces on every European language, and on every system of jurisprudence that has as yet been applied to the regulation of the most ordinary transactions of social life among any civilized people. It would be difficult, we suspect, to find any thorough-bred civilian who would not smile to hear it maintained that a Fielding or a Le Sage could have been at any loss for materials amidst a society so exquisitely refined and complicated as the recorded decisions of the old Roman lawyers imply. But it is not necessary to call in special authority. Artificial institutions, however ill devised, still leave us men and women, parents and children, lovers and friends,