rejoice in the task of making God's temple | next door, or the linendraper over the way. "all glorious within." The shabby paper His priestly office endows him with no speflowers on the altar are faded and dirty. cial dignity, nor is he treated with any adThe altar-cloth is ragged and threadbare; the crucifix is chipped and neglected. No fine linen or delicate laces grace the sacred mysteries of chalice and paten; no knee is bent in worship; no sound of universal prayer and thanksgiving is heard; some hymns are sung, and a sermon is preached, and the dreary function is over. ditional respect. They call him " Herr Pastor," and he takes his hand at whist, his pipe and his beer with the rest, and is as secular in his talk as they. In this way he acquires no polish, nor is it possible that he should do so. The classe bourgeois in Germany and our " middle-class" are thousands of miles apart. They have the advantage of us in education; their intelligence is greater, their acquirements more varied, their knowledge more accurate and more extensive perhaps than ours. But their manners! Shade of William of Wykeham forfend that I should attempt to describe their manners! Here and there a better state of things may be found, but only here and there. There are a thousand and one plausible excuses to be found for not going to church. It is too cold, or the services begin too early, or the organ is out of tune. But the truth lies very near and is very simple. A man whom you but seldom see, and whom you Thus much, however, I do not hesitate to never meet in private social intercourse, say that, if the middle class of Germany cannot have much influence over you. In is a hundred years in advance of ours so far domestic troubles, in the hour of bereave- as abstract or positive knowledge is conment and affliction, in the hour of remorse cerned, it is at least five hundred years beand doubt, you will not turn to such an one. hind us in all the refinements and graceful To do so you must feel some personal sym- amenities of life. Pipes and beer, dressingpathy with him, some sort of "oneness." gowns and slippers and spittoons, vanished You must have confidence in his affection from amongst us long ago; and with their and wisdom; you must respect his judg- exodus the reign of scrupulous cleanliness, ment, and, above all things, you must not of tubs and long washing-bills, began. It is be shocked by his manners. To see a man not to be supposed that a poor German pasin the rostrum once a week, his ordinary tor whose name is Schmidt or Meyer (the dress covered with a Geneva gown, and a difference of caste is sufficiently indicated frill round his neck, is not sufficient to in- by the absence of the magic "Von "),, spire you with confidence, or to encourage whose boots are never blacked, whose cloth you in feelings of attachment and respect. is rusty, and whose coat is out of date, whose Once a week! What do I say? Once a linen is not over fine (and, if the truth be month would be nearer the mark, if we take told, not always overclean), it is not to be into account the long winter, when no one supposed, I say, that such a man as this can goes to church if he can help it. Now a feel himself very much at his ease amongst clergyman is not admitted into society in bland barons and contemptuous countesses, Germany; or at least not into the society of or make his voice heard with clerical auwhich I write. The peasants go to church, thority amongst graceful, fashionable, wellbut the poorer classes in the towns look on bred folks, who are scandalized at his boots, the "black coats" with prejudice and aver- and are blushing for his linen. He has sion, seldom darkening the church doors, none of that calm and dignified assurance and resenting anything like advice, as that a recognised position gives. He does though it were interference, in angry and not feel himself to be a gentleman amongst contemptuous terms. They have sayings gentlemen as good as they by birth and edand songs in abundance to the discredit of ucation, and better than they in so far that the clergy, and do not scruple to use the his life is better and purer, and his calling a strongest language in speaking of their spir- higher one than theirs. He cannot worthiitual pastors. Within the magic circle of ly represent the church of which he is the noble blood the Protestant clergyman is avowed and accredited servant, because, never admitted; or, if admitted, on terms even in Germany, the days are gone by that clearly define his position and set a when uncouthness and slovenliness were seal upon his inferiority. The middle class tolerated amongst the upper classes. His still remains, the class from which he him- position is not that of the poor, hard-workself springs, and in which he therefore nat-ing, peace-bringing English clergyman, who urally feels himself most at home. But even here there is nothing apostolic in his influence. He is the same as the lawyer finds compensation for his poverty and many privations in the honour paid to the religion whose servant he is; for whom a seat is va cant and a welcome just as ready at the castle as it is in the cottage; whose wife is a lady, though a lady in linsey instead of in satin; whose daughters are a match for any man, and whose sons feel no painful sense of inferiority when they find themselves with the Squire Bob Acres, or are invited to dine at the hall with young Porphyrogenitus and his friends. As has already been said, a German Protestant clergyman is nowhere, his opinion is as nothing, his influence absolutely nil. He is, in sober truth, of very little account. Nobody minds much what he says on things in general; and, were he to speak of those things more particularly of which it would well become him to speak out of the pulpit as well as in it, he would not even be tolerated. Let him take his hand at whist; let him have his afternoon game at bowls or skittles, and smoke his quiet pipe whilst he thus amuses himself, and his fellow-citizens will not be averse to his society. Pipes and skittles are becoming diversions, and beer and tobacco promoters of good fellowship; only do not let him show that he is (or ought to be) different from them, or all amity will be at an end. His life differs but little from theirs; chiefly perhaps in that their day of rest is his day of labour. His wife does her duty as a Hausfrau, not troubling herself about theology, parish schools, refuges, homes or hospitals; his daughters knit his stockings and make his shirts, and cook and wash and iron and sew, in a way that leaves little time over for "Shakspeare and the musical glasses." With his family he talks of his pigs and geese; with his neighbours of the gas and taxes; of religion no mention is made, nor, I fear, is "the enthusiasm of humanity very strong upon him. He drones on inoffensivly, but no burning charity, no ardent love, no fervent zeal, no divine spark glows in his breast, or awakens his dull soul to enthusiasm; he preaches his Sunday discourse, and thinks," good easy man," that therein his whole duty is accomplished. But the clergy alone do not make the Church; there is the laity. To me, the longer I looked, the more it seemed that the Protestantism of Germany was but a sorry pretence at religion; that it was but dry bones, and dust and ashes. What with the feebleness and shortcomings of the clergy, and the coldness and contempt of the laity, the spectacle is a sad one for outsiders to contemplate. Amongst my fair friends was a lady supposed to be very "pious;" that The use, or misuse, of this very word "pious " if significant. It is a term of contempt applied to is, she went to church regularly every Sunday, when it was not too late or too cold, and did not hail, or rain, or blow, or snow. "Dear Madam," said I to her one day, "how is it I never meet Dr. Donner at your house?" (Dr. Donner was her favourite preacher; he was also a clever man, and had written a learned book about the minarets of the Mosque of Omar.) "Why," said she, "he is certainly a most estimable man, highly educated, and all that sort of thing, but you know he is not exactly not quite of course I don't mean to say a word against him, but the prejudices of society must be respected." This was a most impotent apology, and I resolved forthwith not to accept it. 66 But, my most gracious lady," said I, addressing her according to prescribed formula, "you expect that man to take your soul to heaven, and yet yon think his presence will contaminate your body, and you refuse to breathe the same air with him outside the church." Upon this she looked aghast, but, being a gentlewoman, courteously forbore to notice my boorishness. She paused a moment before replying, and then said quietly: "I know what you mean - but-it is impossible; people would be offended, if I asked him to meet them, and Dr. Donner himself would not feel comfortable out of his own sphere." "But, dear Madam, when and where, may I ask, is a clergyman out of his own sphere?' The Apostles were but fishermen, and St. Paul, the tent-maker, was in nowise embarrassed when he made that famous defence before the most noble' Festus." "But that is two thousand years ago," said the lady, and added, blushing slightly, " Dr. Donner's mother keeps the pastry cook's shop opposite the theatre, and his wife is a saddler's daughter." There was something in this, certainly; and, if I could ever have dared to whistle in that gentle presence, I should surely have done so then. The lady saw her advantage, and continued, "Of course, pride, and all that sort of thing, is very wrong; but then, you see, our clergymen are so terribly bourgeois that we can't possibly see them (as you do yours in England) with the rest of our friends." "And do they not feel offended at being asked alone?" "Oh dear, no! - but to tell the truth, it is not the custom to ask them at those whose lives are not so utterly careless as the lives of their neighbours. To say a lady was "pious" would not be to say anything very distinctive in a country where piety is no exception amongst them. But to stigmatize a sister-woman as pietistisch" in Germany, savours of a contempt that true piety surely never deserved, and which only an angry sense of inferiority in Christian fervour and charity could inspire. ་་ all. They go out amongst people of their own class-lawyers, and shopkeepers, and people of that kind - but they don't expect us to invite them." Truly, a religion whose ministers are thus spoken of, and of whom so little account is made, runs a fair chance of sinking into utter oblivion and of being clean forgotten for ever and ever, like a dead man out of mind. "Beautiful women," says Heine, "beautiful women without religion are like flowers without perfume. They resemble cold, sober tulips, which look upon us from their china vases as though they were also of porcelain; and, if they could speak, they would explain to us how naturally they grow from a bulb, how all-sufficient it is for any one here below not to smell badly, and how, so far as perfume is concerned, a rational flower has no need of it what ever." His taste revolted at a defect at which his piety, since it did not exist, could take no exception. I often thought of Heine's words when I was in Germany; and to me it seemed that, the more beautiful the women, the greater their resemblance to the poet's porcelain tulips. Men often go to church because women take them there. A man's religion is often but the reflected glow of a beloved wife's devotion, or of a revered mother's holiness, though by degrees it may become his own. I need not say that amongst men in Germany infidelity is the rule, belief the exception. Women have in all ages been the nursing mothers of religion: from the days when Mary eagerly drank in divine truths at the feet of her Lord, from the time when the three stood weeping round the Cross, from the days of virgin martyrs to the poetic Middle Ages, from the Middle Ages down to our own times, they have never forgotten their faith or been false to their love. But in Protestant Germany it would almost seem as though the women were too much "cumbered about much serving" to have time for the beautiful charities and lovingkindnesses of Christianity. The picture drawn by a great German authority of the present condition of the Protestant Church in that country is a gloomy and painful one indeed. He says that "it is eaten to the core by unbelief, and sapped in its very foundations by infidelity." Germany does not want for theologians. Of these she has enough, just as she has eminent philosophers and geologists and naturalists, historians, and mathematicians and chemists. But talking of religion will not make a people religious, nor will diacussing dogmas sow devotion and faith in unbelieving hearts. German theologians, for all their congresses, seem unable to awaken anything like true religious feelings in the hearts of the people. It may be asked, why this should be the case? The answer is not altogether easy; but it lies partly in this, that the clergy are neither respected nor esteemed, as clergy, by those above or those below them. The cure of souls is, alas! with them a sinecure. Germans of the upper class will tell you that they cannot associate with their clergy on terms of equality, because their clergy have no claim to be regarded as equals; because their manners are often offensive, and generally unpolished; because there are discrepancies and deficiencies in their address and general way of conducting themselves which are offensive to the prejudices of the more refined. No one who has resided long in Protestant Germany can ignore the general disregard in which the clergy are held. And yet the very persons who are most eager to take exception at little incongruities of word and deed, such as those to which I have alluded, are the most clamorous in condemning the spiritual pride which could prefer gospel truths at the hands of the courteous and refined rather than at those of the uncouth and tactless. They say, "If you are a Christian you should not be so hypercritical about little things: your baker's son can preach evangelical doctrines as pure as an Archbishop. For ourselves we do not profess these things, and therefore it is allowable for us to object to vulgarity and irrationality." Thus they would fain skilfully extricate themselves from the horns of the dilemma, and take refuge in finding fault, without any sincere desire to remedy the evil. It may be wrong to allow temporal things to outweigh spiritual; but that the things of this world do tell in the balance—ay, and heavily too - cannot be denied. Were the social status of the German pastor a different one, his spiritual influence, his priestly authority, would also be different. Even in the old disreputable port-drinking, belletoasting, fox-hunting days, our clergy were, according to their lights and after their kind, gentlemen gentlemen of an eccentric pattern perhaps, and of a not altogether reverend cut; but, according to the fashion then in vogue, still gentlemen. They were not despised by the exclusive or sneered at by the inferior, on that score at least. Then came the days of the Wesleys and Whitefield, and the aurora of better times dawned; a more fitting order of things prevailed; and it has continued to prevail, even up to these days of muscular Christianity. But propose to a young German nobleman (the younger son of a younger son, though he bears his title, according to the unfortunate custom there obtaining), propose, I say, to Is such a young "Von" that he shall become a clergyman: he will either laugh in your face with scorn and derision, or he will bluster forth huge words, and want to fight a duel with you for insulting him! A few words more and I have done. The Protestant Church of Germany has no Ritus. Their so-called Symbolical Books and our Prayer-book have nothing in common; neither has their Gesangbuch (which is nothing more nor less than a collection of hymns) any resemblance to a liturgy. There is no positive rule of proceeding in the Church services. One pastor has them performed in this way, another in that; but year by year they have grown colder and more bald, year by year fewer worshippers are seen, and, notwithstanding all the scolding of the preacher, the churches remain empty. The late King of Prussia was aware of the want of religious fervor and enthusiasm in good works, which rendered the Protestant Church in Germany a dead letter. He sought to give more form, more pomp, more beauty to its services; he created bishops and encouraged the nobility to don the cassock. But the time was not ripe. The seed fell in stony places; the episcopal attempt was not renewed; it met with immense ridicule; the King was laughed at for a pietist and an Anglomaniac; anecdotes were told to prove that religion, in so worldly-minded a prince, was but a sorry pretence concealing an attempt at more extended political power, and the movement, if movement it could be called, died a natural death. The Germans have a Reformation, but - no Church. I said at the beginning of this paper that I wished to confine myself exclusively to the social aspects of German Protestantism. With dogmas and articles of faith I have nothing whatever to do. Let men believe what they will, only let them be in earnest in that belief. It may be that out of the dust and ashes of German Protestantism a new faith shall arise, more beautiful, more tender, more enthusiastic and noble and daring and enduring, than the old. It can scarcely be that the Great Elector and the Great Reformer shall have fought so bravely with such single-heartedness, with such simple faith in a great and good cause, to be betrayed by a laggard crew at last! From the Dublin University Magazine. THE FALL OF THE MONASTERIES. ON a certain Thursday in the middle of November, 1501, all London was making its way towards Westminster Hall. 66 The open space in front of the hall and palace had been gravelled and sanded, and a tilt bad been stretched over nearly the whole length, from the Watergate up to the entrance of the gate that openeth into King's-street towards the sanctuary." At the upper end of this tilt, or tent, an artificial tree had been erected, decorated with leaves, flowers, and fruit, and enclosed with a paling. Upon rails under this tree were suspended the shields and escutcheons of lords and knights. At the opposite end of the tent there was a stage, with a partition in the midst. The part on the right hand was decorated with hangings and cushions of gold, intended for the king and his lords, and the part on the left was prepared for the queen and her ladies. A flight of stairs led from the king's portion down to the area, by which his messengers might pass to any part of the building with his orders. There was a private entrance for the king and queen through Westminster Hall, by the Exchequer Chamber, on to this stage. On the north side, opposite to that of the king, was another stage, covered with red silk, for the mayor, the sheriffs, the aldermen, and city dignitaries. All round the sides of the tent and upon the walls were double stages, very firmly built, for the general public, who were admitted at a high price. These were already filled with a gay crowd of people, closely packed together, and eagerly expecting the commencement of a scene of festivities, of which we can scarcely form a just conception, and which illustrates the life of the times. There were to be jousts, banquets, and disguisings, for the occasion was an important one, and an ominous one, though they did not know it: for the country an important one, for the young heir to the throne had just married a beautiful Spanish princess, and the country's chivalry came out to rejoice over the hopeful event. It was an ominous one; for that youthful princess, with her dark eyes and long hair flowing over her shoulders, was destined to be the fountain of a vast change in the civil and religious economy of the whole country such a change as can occur but once in a country's history. Little did she imagine, as she sat amongst the splendid chivalry of that court, that in only a few short years all Europe would be ringing with her name, and statesmen, ambassadors, nuncios, proud monarchs, and a trembling pope would be busy with the wrongs of Catherine of Arragon. At the moment we are describing, she was not quite fifteen years of age, and her youthful husband, Arthur, the Prince of Wales, had just completed his fourteenth year. He was a prince of great promise, and at that early age had manifested those signs of intellectual activity and love of scholarship which were the characteristics of the Tudors. We read that he was already familiar with the principal Latin authors, and with Homer and Thucydides in the Greek. The scene we are endeavouring to sketch was the tournament held as a commencement to a whole week of festivities in honour of his nuptials. As soon as the dinner was finished in the court, and when the patience of the multitude was nearly exhausted, the queen, accompanied by the king's mother, the Princess Catherine, the Lady Margaret and her sister, the king's daughters, with many other ladies of honour, entered upon the scene from Westminster Hall, and took up their position upon the stage allotted to them, amid the acclamations of the multitude. Shortly after another thunder of applause broke out, upon the appearance of His Majesty Henry VII., with the prince, the Duke of York, the Earl of Oxford, the Earls of Derby and Northumberland, and Spanish nobles, followed by the Esquires, Gentlemen, and Yeomen of the Guard in waiting. When they were seated, the Mayor of London, with all his company, entered and took up their position. In a few moments a loud blast of trumpets announced that the field was ready for the champions. Then, for the challengers, proceeded out of Westminster Hall Sir George Herbert, Sir Rowland Knight, Lord Banners, and Lord Henry of Buckingham, armed, and mounted on good coursers, decked out in gay trappings. At this moment the proceedings were interrupted by the entrance of the Duke of Buckingham, carried in a pavilion of white and green silk, being square in form, and having turrets at each corner; these turrets were decorated with red roses, the king's badge. The pavilion was carried by a great number of his servants, who were dressed in jackets of black and red silk, followed by many others of his servants and gallants, well horsed, and their horses decorated with rich trappings, and bells, and spangles of gold. The procession moved down the tent to the king, when the duke paid his reverence, and was carried to the end near the hall, where they remained. Again the trumpets blew a blast, and there came out of King-street, in at the gate which opened toward the Sanctuary, the defenders, Guillam de la Rivers, in a pavilion in the form of a ship, borne by men; then Sir John Percy, knight in a pavilion of red silk; the Lord William of Devonshire, in a red dragon, led by a giant, and with a great tree in his hand; the Earl of Essex, in a mountain of green, which served for his pavilion, with many trees, rocks, herbs, stones, and marvellous beasts on the sides; on the height of this mountain was a fair young lady. They made their passage about the field, doing courtesy to the king, till they came to the place of entrance; then, as soon as they were out of their pavilions, the king gave the sign and the tournament began. At this first course the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Essex engaged, and the duke broke his staff upon the earl, and at the second course the earl broke his upon the duke, and the others engaged in turn with varied fortunes, in every course a staff being broken, and in some both. So that," said the chronicler, "such a joust and field royall, so valiantly done, hath not been seen ne heard." The day after the tournament, on Friday, in the evening, the company repaired to the great hall, which had been magnificently decorated for a disguising. The building was hung with rich cloths, and in the upper part was a royal cupboard erected, extending the whole length of the chancery; in it were seven shelves, filled with a rich treasure of plate, part of gold and part of silver, gilt. The court and guests assembled, and when all were seated the following entertainment commenced. The first representation was a castle, cunningly devised, set upon wheels and drawn in by four great beasts, with chains of gold. The first beasts were lions, one of gold and the other of silver; the other two were, one of them a hart, with gilt horns, and the fourth was an elk. In each of these beasts were two men, one in the forepart and another in the hind part, their legs being dis |