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spirits of past times by a tie similar to that which binds us to our Creator, for have not our minds been, in some degree, created and moulded by them? Being, in fact, one of the means used by Him in our formation, they may be considered as links in the great chain which connects us with Him. A further reflection may arise, that we too are in comparative blindness and ignorance, that we too have an obstinate persistency in error, and desperate attachment to our own prejudices, and shall in our turn receive the contempt of posterity for our folly and ignorance. There may be, and probably are, at this moment, truths discovered, and waiting for our reception, as dazzling, as immortal, as blessed in their effects upon human happiness, as any which have yet appeared, but lying in the dark, impenetrable shadow cast over them by the form of Prejudice, and trodden under our feet as worthless.

It is the philosopher who utters those words of power which govern society; it is the poet who enforces them. The philosopher and poet combined should therefore have no small influence over human affairs. That Shelley was both a philosopher and poet, no one will deny. How far he fulfilled the responsibilities of these two great gifts, how far his use of them tended to the advancement of opinion, how far and in what manner they have influenced and are yet to influence the minds of men, are questions highly interesting indeed, but too deep to be entered into without a thorough study of his writings and life, involving, as they do, investigation into his peculiar opinions and sentiments, and a just estimation of the spirit of the times in which he lived, and of how far it was adapted to the appreciation of his excellencies. We may mention, however, one or two of the causes of the persecution and total misunderstanding which was his share during his lifetime, and then pass to a few glimpses into his belief.

It is curious to remark the different effect produced by Shelley and his cotemporary, Byron, in their appearance before the public. Both were minds of superior order; both published to the world poems which bore the stamp of immortality. The one rose to popularity with the speed of lightning; he appeared to live in every one's heart; his sayings and doings, his sentiments and opinions, were perpetually discussed; his crimes were palliated, his follies admired, his misfortunes every where sympathized with. His vanity made him believe himself the object on which the eyes of England, if not of Europe, were fixed. Vanity, indeed, may have lain much at the root of this popularity; it led him to egotism in his writings, and the world is always ready to give its sympathy to those who will address

it in moving terms, and lend the veil of romance to sentiments which are, when closely examined, sufficiently common-place. There is something also in vanity which will not allow itself to be overlooked. Shelley would have been but too happy to have been overlooked, if by that means he could have escaped persecution; but this was not allowed him. His name was covered with infamy; his children were torn from him, and he was made to feel himself an exile from society. It is not to one cause alone we can attribute the total misunderstanding of Shelley's character during his lifetime; but the most obvious was the discrepancy of his belief with that of society in general, and still more the bold and impetuous manner in which he avowed his own opinions, at an age too when they could not have been matured. Byron too threw off the Belief of society, without its injuring his popularity. With him, however, unbelief was the result not of conviction, but of his own temper and conduct, of the sceptical tone which prevailed among his early associates, of the dissipated life he led, which rendered high interests indifferent or repulsive to him, and made him involuntarily shut his eyes to truths which could only appal him. He was too evidently miserable and at contradiction with himself, not to afford a testimony to the advantages of religion, and its necessity to happiness; besides which, he never openly attacked the opinions of men, and was very far from having any theories of his own to supply their place. But all the odium possible was thrown upon Shelley, who, though avowing the most extraordinary opinions, could yet find them sufficient for a life of simple goodness, of unbounded philanthropy, of the conscientious discharge of duty, and the happiness which results from these. Strange that the world should so much persist in mistaking the boundaries of right and wrong, in allowing those who leave its opinions untouched, to pass with impunity through any course of conduct, however bad, but covering with persecution those who dare openly to controvert these, let their principles of action be as high and pure as possible.

Early in life Shelley shook off all the accustomed forms of belief. He was disgusted by the absurdities of the popular theology, and he failed to separate the true metal from the ore which surrounded it. His mind was attracted by the various systems of philosophers, and he launched out boldly into the wide sea of speculation. This is a dangerous experiment, and one which, whenever it is thoroughly tried, manifests a constitutional scepticism that seldom allows the mind to rest in harbours of Faith. A habit of mind is exhibited and fostered,

unfavourable if not fatal to settled conviction. If the mind be accustomed from the time when it begins to exert its own powers, to depart from all authority in belief, to theorize as it will, and find in its own speculations all that it requires, it is very questionable if it does not learn permanently to consider as insupportable chains what are in fact the mental and moral fences of the soul. It is thus a want of the capability of conviction, as much as a want of actual conviction, which holds back some speculative natures from the truths of revelation.

Shelley's speculations were of the boldest nature, but much study of his works is necessary for understanding them completely. His opinions seem to have been a good deal unsettled. Christianity he entirely repudiated, nay considered it to be one of the great causes of evil in the world; yet he did homage to the character and precepts of our Saviour, and it may be imagined that, with a soul so formed to harmonize with its spirit, he might, had he lived longer, learnt at some time to assimilate to itself the truths which it contains. Definite truths, however, of all kinds, hung back from him, glided past him like shadows, and eluded his grasp, whilst the vague was ever before him, folded its dark wings round him, palpable in all its immensity. His notions of the Deity were pantheistic."Mind," he says, "judging from what we know of it, which is only from experience, can never create, only perceive;" and hence he denies the creation of the world by an Infinite Spirit. The universe he conceived to be pervaded by a spirit of Beauty and Love, mentioned often in his poems; but a spirit devoid of personality, possessed of no fixed relations to us. Thus he entirely abandoned the idea of a Providence, and left no motive for prayer. On the faith in a Providence, in a Being to whose paternity the interests of his creatures are dear, depends the belief in an Immortality; for, take from us the dependency of our existence on some higher Being, leave us to a life whose conditions are nothing more than an unconscious destiny, a rigid necessity, where then shall we, perishable mortals as we are, helpless against the obstructions which meet us on every path of inquiry and action, profoundly ignorant of our own real nature, with an unknown Past and Future behind and before us, and with no fixed relations to anything beyond the visible world, dare to fix a hope? Certainly, in no powers of our own over our destiny. Even the trust which we feel inclined to give to the imperishable nature of our best qualities (the anchor on which Shelley seems chiefly to have rested), to our unsatisfied aspirations after unattainable excellence, to our power of conceiving of a perfection, freed from "the encum

brances of mortal life," though it be sufficient to confirm what is already believed from other reasons, cannot be laid as a sure foundation for hope. These voices of our spiritual nature, which plead with so much power and tenderness, are not able to drown the harsh tones of material Nature, and a hard experience which rise on the other side. The noblest feelings, they tell us, may change, wither, and die; a few alterations of the corporeal frame can prostrate the intellect of a Newton to the imbecility of an infant; can change the sentiments of a noble and beautiful soul to the ravings of a madman. Faith and Hope are inseparable, and when we deny the efficacy of one, we give up all foundation for the other. Shelley himself is an evidence to the truth of what has been said. We find him treating of the question of immortality, and leaving it undecided. It is evident that his mind was in an undecided state with respect to it. He balances with conscientiousness the arguments on each side, and not having the doctrine of a Providence to decide, he finds but the equipoise of Hope and Fear, the trembling of the balance between Annihilation and Immortality.

X.

ART. IV.-WHAT AM I TO BELIEVE?

No. III.

If we look back at the history of Christianity, we find that, at a very early period, men ambitious of power, perceiving that the religions prevalent in the world were rapidly losing their influence, and that the rationality of the Christian system was producing change that could not be long resisted, combined together, and, under every appearance of outward sanctity and imposing ceremony, formed what was called the Church. This Church, ere long, became divided against itself, and separated. That division of it which established itself in the West soon acquired temporal as well as spiritual dominion; and, taking advantage of the extreme ignorance of the people, the Roman Church, by its well-devised expedients, succeeded so to entangle the human mind in superstitious fear as to render it subservient to the most ambitious desires. The height to which the power of the Church rose appears, now that the yoke has been broken and the mind emancipated, almost incredible. The most powerful intellects were devoted to the service of the tyranny, and long preserved the throne that had been erected on the prostrate understanding of man. At length, trusting too much to influence and assumed infallibility, this Church found there were sincere Christians in her bosom who could not conscientiously submit, nor allow others to submit, to proceedings wholly inconsistent with the first principles of religion and morality. Like all other tyrannies, that of the Roman Church was brought low, and she now languishes in the contempt of all enlightened men, even in the countries where she is still tolerated and supported in her decrepitude.*

While this Church rejoiced in the days of dominion and wealth, the people of all ranks were in a state of the most degrading profligacy and ignorance, and it could not be said, however much the Church boasted of being true, that Christianity had contributed to the advancement of morality. Whether the first Reformed Church was less tyrannical in reference to the human

* This remark may appear inconsistent with the knowledge of the efforts which are, at the present time, so conspicuous in England, to throw back the Church into the abyss whence she had escaped; and in Scotland to establish a tyranny not the less galling, because more vulgar, than that which the priests of Rome exercised. But such efforts are regarded as a prelude to the universal acceptation of a rational system.

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