ILLUSTRATIONS.

(A.) page 4.

The Effects of the Reformation.

The Reformation was an event, which inspired society,or at least, its adherents, with a new set of feelings, and opinions, upon almost every possible subject. It was a new era, introducing every where a new order of things; rejecting the principle, which had, until then, been the basis, both of Christian faith, and of social harmony; and substituting in its stead the very principle, both of religious, and civil, discord. It was the proclamation of the emancipation of human reason from the fetters and restrictions of authority. It, therefore, produced, as all revolutions in faith must do, when they become general,-a variety of revolutions in other regards. It produced a revolution in morals, in the forms of worship, in the order of politics, in the relations of social life, and in literature itself.

It produced a revolution in morals. Unwilling to be ever grossly inconsistent, men are particularly unwilling to be inconsistent in relation to what interests their self-love, and their passions. The consequence, therefore, is, that, as their duties, and obligations, are regulated by their faith,—so, in proportion as their faith is feeble and imperfect, such also, in like manner, are their systems of morality, and their cultivation of virtue, more or less defective or orderly, imperfect or accurate, precisely as their belief instructs, and animates, them. If, therefore, it be the case, that all kinds of creeds

are established, or tolerated, so likewise, of course, will all kinds of morals. The same liberty, which consecrates the belief of all kinds of errors, and opinions, will equally appear to sanction, either the rejection, or the adoption, of all kinds of duties. For, if men are at liberty to deny, or to believe, what they please, why also, they will naturally say,-" Why are we not at liberty to act as we please?" The two privileges appear indeed inseparable. Accordingly, such as this was the reasoning, and such as this the state of things, on the occasion of the Reformation. The toleration of every kind of error became at once the source and toleration of every kind of crime. There was not a crime however monstrous, not a disorder however gross, which immense multitudes of the first converts to Protestantism did not, every where,-I do not say merely commit,-but ardently defend; and defend moreover by the alleged authority of the Bible itself. Thus Luther himself, with his fellow reformers, allowed, good-natured men!-the Landgrave of Hesse to keep two wives at the same time. (It is true, they did this for the good of the Reformation!) In short, as Erasmus, and even the very reformers themselves acknowledge, the morality of the Reformation, at its early periods, was flagrantly detestable. "The Reformation," says Chalmers, "reformed men into vice." But as Erasmus justly remarks-How could the thing well be otherwise? For, to tell men, as Luther and the reformers did,-to tell the young, the ignorant, and the profligate, that good works are of no avail; that there is no liberty in the human will; that the Pope is antichrist; that bishops and priests are but phantoms and evil spirits; that the doctrines of men are heresies, and the decrees of the church but acts of tyranny,-in short, that faith alone is sufficient for all the purposes and securities of salvation,-to tell them all this,-pressing at the same time the wild and licentious principles upon their minds with all the ardor of zeal, and the fury of declamation, and yet suppose, that the effects would not be ruinous to morality,-this would be, not only unreasonable, but absurd. Even Luther himself, and his coadjutors, felt, ere long, but too late, the awful and awkward circumstance; and they endeavoured to counteract it by the

aid of consistories, the powers of the magistracy, and a new set of theoretical principles. However, the effort was made in vain. The tree bore its fruits; and these fruits were licentiousness and vice, in every possible shape of turpitude and deformity.

It produced a revolution in worship.-Revolutions in faith must, of course, change the order of religious worship; because worship is but the expression of the dogmas of faith. It is the nature of faith to manifest itself by actions; because faith is the principle, and foundation, of actions. Hence, therefore, the consequence is, that not only has the Protestant revolution destroyed the ancient forms of Christian worship,but, as the belief of the Protestants is grounded only upon opinion, and as they have set aside the most affecting objects of religious veneration,-so do they entertain very little, or no respect for the awful ceremonies of Christian piety. Their liturgies are, for these reasons, cold, dry, inanimate things, excluding all those sublime and sensible signs, which are the language of feeling, and the expressions of finely-constructed minds.

It produced a revolution in politics, and in the order of social life." For, the rebellion," Dr. Daubeny very justly remarks, "which originates in the church, never fails to terminate in the state."

For some considerable time before the Reformation took place, the peace of society, and the comforts of domestic life, had been regularly advancing to stability, under the auspices of religion, and the influences and improvements of literature. The acceleration to these blessings had even, for some time before, been rapid. However, the Reformation came: and as it was a revolt against authority, so, in order to give an apparent sanction to its darings, it renewed in its own defence those pagan maxims respecting power, which, happily for the peace of mankind, had lain, for many ages past, neglected and unknown. "The political writings of the reformers," says Chalmers, "were what we now reprobate as Jacobinical,— being equally irreconcilable with the principles of established society, as inconsistent with the pure precepts of the Christian religion." In fact, it was they, it was the force, and

industry, of their incantations, that conjured up from its grave, where it had so long been buried, that demon of mischief, and rebellion, the pretended "rights, and supremacy, of the people." At once,-at the call of the awful spectre,— the spirit of anarchy and independence seized upon the minds of their deluded followers, inflaming their passions, and exciting them to reject all the restraints, both of princely, and magisterial, power. The fanaticism of religious liberty produced, at once, the fanaticism of political licentiousness: and many of the best, and finest, portions of Europe became the prey to the anti-social system. Germany, France, Holland, Switzerland, &c. became deluged with torrents of human blood, and overspread with ruins. Many thrones were made to totter; and some, moreover, fell. In short, the bands, both of public harmony and of private concord, were violently burst asunder. Meanwhile, Luther, Beza, and the whole host of the reforming apostles, by the violence of their writings, and the extravagance of their discourses, urged on the multitude to new acts of rebellion; not only justifying, but even sanctifying their excesses.

I say nothing concerning the political effects of the principles of the Reformation in this country. But we all know well what was their result, when once they had developed themselves, and become the general feeling. The people, animated by them, now became triumphant, and supreme. All power was theirs and ere long, law, justice, and the constitution, vanished. Force alone, and the bad passions, remained behind. The sword of the leveller, and the fury of the fanatic, were every where industriously employed in the destruction of every social eminence and royalty itself perished upon the scaffold, in the person of the most ill-fated of the ill-fated Stuarts.

Dreadful as are these effects, yet are they, after all, but the natural consequences of the maxims of the Reformation. For, when once it is proclaimed, that "reason is the sole rule of faith, and the will of the public the sole source of power," then does truth become no longer any thing, but what flatters inclination; power, no longer aught, but what gratifies selflove. It becomes force, directed by interest, and regulated

by the passions: insomuch that wherever men have adopted the pernicious system, they would infallibly,-if possessed of equal rights, but unequal interests,-mutually destroy each other. Such as these precisely were the effects, which we have recently witnessed in the instructive history of the French revolution. The leaders of that storm did nothing more than apply with consistency, and courage, the leading principles of the first reformers. And the natural consequence was, the destruction of religion, and the subversion of social order. The same errors in reality will always, when the occasion offers, produce the same effects. And should any revolution, which Heaven avert!-again take place in this nation, and there are too many reasons to awaken apprehension,-it will again be founded, and conducted, upon the leading principles of the Reformation, the alleged "prerogatives of reason, and the rights of man."

It produced a revolution in literature, and the arts.-Before the Reformation, and ere Luther had appeared to disturb the harmony, both of public and private life, there had long subsisted an ardent spirit for the cultivation of literature, and the polished arts, a spirit, mild, gentle, liberal, and set off with taste. It was excited, and diffused, by a class of men, who had sought after science amidst the ancient ruins of Greece and Rome; who had studied assiduously the works of the most enlightened nations; and even successfully laboured to imitate them. Every branch of learning had already begun to flourish under their auspices; and assisted by the press, they had diffused abroad a blaze of the purest light. It was from Italy that the beam first parted, and it shed its. rays over France, Germany, Spain, and various other nations. From the cultivation of literature to the cultivation of the arts, the passage, or transition, is immediate. So that these had already attained a degree of perfection, above all in Italy, even beyond all the refinements of modern elegance.

The Reformation came, and by the violence of its excesses, by its barbarous and harsh disputes, it arrested the progress of every literary improvement. Wheresoever its partisans prevailed, the Muses, as if terrified-and the Genius of the Arts, as if disgusted-fled from their hitherto-beloved