"'I, A.B., do solemnly make the following declaration :"I assent to the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, and to the Book of Common Prayer, and of Ordering of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons : I believe the doctrine of the United Church of England and Ireland, as therein set forth, to be agreeable to the Word of God: and in Public Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments I will use the form in the said Book prescribed, and none other, except so far as shall be ordered by lawful authority."" This is no doubt a great improvement upon the numerous and stringent declarations which formerly prevailed, but every test of individual belief is to a certain extent an evil. Since, however, I have in a former publication1 endeavoured to point out what the nature of that evil is, I do not think it necessary now to repeat the arguments therein used against Clerical Subscription. What I laboured to prove in reference to the old formula, is equally true in reference to the new one; namely, that nothing is gained in the case of those who do subscribe, while those to whom the necessity of subscribing forms a barrier, will generally be the most conscientious members of the community, and the best adapted to add strength and dignity to the National Church. Nevertheless, among the causes which deter intellectual men from taking orders, Subscription, though one of the most obvious, is probably one of the least important. Their difficulties have a deeper source. The destruction of this testso useless as a safeguard to the Church, so noxious as a trial to the conscience would be a welcome event; but it would be of comparatively little value so long as the legal restrictions on free thought remained hanging in terrorem over the heads of the clergy. The effect of punishing on account of belief, will be either to induce the unorthodox clergyman to suppress or disguise his views from fear of personal danger, or if he should publish them, to expose him to considerable suffering in consequence of his act. Few people are likely to consider the first of these results as altogether desirable. A layman who holds unpopular opinions in theology, is in no way called upon to declare those opinions unless he choose. But a clergyman does not enjoy the same liberty of action. He is, by the position he holds, the official expositor of a particular creed. In the exercise of his ministerial duties he is required to speak frequently upon religious topics. If, therefore, he suffers it to be supposed that he still holds the doctrines which in reality he disbelieves; if he continues to preach upon religion while forbearing to give free expression to his real belief, he is taking a course which gives a false impression to his hearers, and is misleading them on matters of vital importance. No doubt, it may be urged that for the sake of the laity, it is better that he should conceal his errors than proclaim them. Even, (1) "A Few Words on Clerical Subscription in the Church of England.” however, if this be admitted for the sake of argument, it only holds good in the case of him who completely suppresses his heretical opinions. Should he give vent to them in a disguised or subtle way, so as to bear fruit in soil prepared to receive them, the cause of orthodoxy does not gain much by holding out the fear of punishment. In some ways the disguised heretic is a more dangerous foe than the open one. It is more difficult to confute him. It is more difficult to denounce him and raise an outcry against him—a task which orthodox disputants often find simpler and readier than confutation. In this case, then, it does not appear that much good is effected by the restrictions on free thought. The second possibility is that of the man who does say what he thinks, and suffers in consequence. He suffers, either because from conscientious motives he thinks proper to resign his clerical office, or because he is deprived of it through the medium of a prosecution. With the man who resigns we are not at present concerned. In regard to the other, it may be observed that those who openly proclaim their dissent from the established creed, are not likely to be the most unworthy among the ministers of the Church. The fact of their dissenting shows that they have thought, and are not contented with blind acquiescence. The fact of their proclaiming that dissent proves their sincerity and earnestness. Men who brave the terrors of the law-whether burning or deprivation of income-for the sake of their belief, have at least a genuine sense of the value of truth. If necessity compels us to expel the clergymen who show this valuable quality on account of the pernicious character of their doctrines, the fate of the Church in this particular is much to be regretted. Whether any such necessity really exists will shortly be considered. In the mean time, it is sufficient for the purpose of the argument, to have shown that the effect of restricting the liberty of the clergy will be, that the less conscientious among them will be induced to conceal their views, and the more conscientious will be punished for expressing them. So far we have considered the effect of these penalties on those who are actually in orders, taking no account of those who are prevented by their dissent from the established tenets from taking orders at all. Concerning this unknown and undefined class we can affirm little with certainty; but one thing we can affirm without much hesitation, and that is, that there will be some among them who, although they have a peculiar talent and vocation for the clerical life, will nevertheless be hindered from embracing it by the provisions of the law. We shall thus deprive ourselves of the men who, both for their own sakes and for ours, it is most desirable to include among our national clerisy. If we wish that the ministers of religion should be indeed spiritual teachers, speaking from the depth of a living faith, rather than simply echoing the barren phrases of a stereotyped creed, we must place no limitations on the field from which they are chosen. It is a suicidal policy to repel, instead of welcoming, the man who is willing to serve us. For I believe that the theory embodied in the Ordination Service-of a spiritual calling to this profession-although it appears to be generally treated as a mockery, is nevertheless not so entirely unmeaning or untrue. How a man, whose only real motive for becoming a clergyman is the prospect of a family living, can declare that he thinks he is inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost, and truly called, according to the will of Christ, to the ministry of the Church, is hard to understand, and would be still harder, were it not one among many proofs how easily we may have belief without earnest conviction, the spirit of dogma entirely disjoined from the spirit of religion. Thus it appears, that whether we consider those who are already members of the clerical body, or those who might under a system of freedom desire to enter it, the effect of the present restrictions on belief is alike unfortunate. It is true that in this argument we have omitted to speak of the orthodox majority among the clergy, confining our views to the unorthodox minority. The former, however, are not affected by the penalties on opinion, either for good or evil. It is obvious, that under any system, the bulk of the clergy would still coincide with the opinions usual among their contemporaries. The exceptions might be more numerous than they are at present, but they would still be exceptions. The question is, whether the exceptions-the clergymen of unusual or unorthodox opinions— ought to be permitted to exist as clergymen at all. Now the theory here maintained is, that all legal provisions, contrived with the express purpose of preventing the full and free expression of individual thought among the clergy, are impolitic and unjust; impolitic, because they tend to exclude from the minority the very men who would be best fitted to enter it; unjust, because in a National Church they shut out from its pale a large portion of the laity, and thus prevent it from being a real or accurate representation of the religion of the people. The objections that may be urged against this theory, and the arguments by which it may be further strengthened and enforced, will form the subject of a few observations in the ensuing Number. AMBERLEY. THE LOST TALES OF MILETUS. AMONG the treasures of Greek literature which were lost to the world when the Alexandrian library perished in Caliph Omar's flames, we may probably rank those prototypes of the modern novel which owed their origin to the lively imagination of Asiatic Greeks. During the three centuries between the death of Alexander and the Christian era there seems to have grown up among the thriving populations spread over the eastern and northern shores of the Ægean a taste for tales of love and wonder; and city rivalled city in giving name to such collections. Of these, rà Miλhoia, the Milesian collection, or Tales of Miletus, were perhaps the most famous. But this collection, with its fellows, shared the destruction which overtook, with few exceptions, the Greek literature of those centuries. They perished, along with the New Attic Comedy, with the Philosophy of the New Academy, the Porch, and the Garden; and with more of History and miscellaneous Poetry, no doubt, than we know even by the titles of the books and the names of the writers. Lord Lytton's elegant volume contains seven tales, under the title of "The Lost Tales of Miletus." Though founded on ancient legends, these tales do not purport to be certainly among those which formed the Milesian collection. But the author is justly entitled to assume, as he does in his preface, that they correspond in general character to the contents of that miscellany. The first tale is entitled "The Secret Way." It is taken, with some variation of incidents and names, from Athenæus, b. xiii. The scene is laid on the confines of the Scythian and Median dominions. At what exact spot and in what Olympiad we need not too curiously inquire. When Fiction takes the reins from History, she is privileged to give Geography and Chronology the go-by. Scythians and Medes, like some moderns of our acquaintance, dispute the possession of a river boundary or the pasturage on its course. The Median throne is filled by a gallant youth, Zariades. Omartes, King of Scythia, departing from the nomad habits of his people, has fortified a capital city with all the resources of ancient skill. He is warned, however, by his high-priest and counsellor, the sage Teleutias, that he has "forgot to bid the masons close the chinks of stone against calamity." The only child of Omartes is "a fair girl, Argiope." Her sire observes that her once "bright face" is sicklied o'er with the pale hue of thought; but he knows not that the maiden has given her heart to a phantom of manly beauty, appearing to her in visions of the night. From politic motives, with the advice of Teleutias, Omartes resolves to offer Argiope's hand in marriage to the Median Sovereign. But his hopes are baulked by an unforeseen obstacle. Zariades, too, is haunted by a lovely shape from the realm of dream, which holds full possession of his enamoured fancy. He sends back the Scythian envoys with a cold and barely courteous refusal. Omartes, incensed, declares war and invades the Median territory; but, defeated in a great battle, and pursued across the river, he finds himself forsaken by his discontented hordes, and besieged in his new fortress. Again he takes counsel with Teleutias; and now the high-priest discloses to his royal master a clever device, contrived by his foresight against an evil hour. Having in charge the works of the palace, he had employed Ethiop masons, whom he afterwards sent back to their native land, to construct a secret way, leading underground from the interior of the palace to a sepulchre amidst the wilds of the desert. An escape was thus provided in case of extreme peril for the royal family and treasure. Omartes declares his settled purpose to defend his capital to the death; but he would have Argiope choose a Scythian husband, and take refuge with him in the pathless wilderness under the escort of Teleutias. But the priest will not desert his temple. The secret and the mission are then entrusted to Seuthes, an ambitious chief, and a traitor at heart, who has gained his master's ear by subtle flatteries. This man sells the secret to Zariades, and undertakes to guide a Median force into the heart of the palace on the night appointed for the marriage and flight of Argiope with the husband of her choice. Zariades, with his select Persian band, comes behind the hangings of the banquet hall at the moment when Argiope enters it, and in the Scythian princess beholds the living lady of his dream. Entranced, he steps into the hall, and the maiden, recognising the embodiment of her own cherished vision, extends the wine-cup to him as her chosen bridegroom. The shock of arms is stayed, and by the union of the royal pair the two nations are united. Such is this graceful plot, so dramatic in construction that we think it might be transferred with little difficulty from the closet to the stage. Of its poetic treatment by Lord Lytton we can cite no finer sample than the concluding passage. "She shivered as he spoke, but, lips firm prest She filled the fatal cup, Raised her sad eyes, and vaguely gazed around her. "Sudden those eyes took light and joy and soul, And with quick gliding steps, And the strange looks of one who walks in slumber, "She passed along the floors, and stooped above And took the wine-cup with a hand that trembled: |