has, in our own day, almost in a literal sense, been deemed worth its weight in silver. Nor can any intellectual pursuit be more agreeable or stimulating to the mind than those journies which an inquisitive reader is accustomed to take in the company of an illustrious author-to trace back to its secret springs the river of golden eloquence; to refresh the eye with the diversified landscape through which it has flowed; to repose in the garden of luxuriant imagery into which he is conducted, and to behold the gradual swelling and impetuosity of the stream-these are sources of high and beautiful interest. But the personal history of an author has a still livelier charm. To travel over the glories of his mind-to think with him, to feel with him, to live with him-this is, indeed, delightful. This enjoyment, however, is rarely afforded to the reader of Barrow; of his private character, as a Christian or a scholar, biography has supplied very scanty notices. He belonged to the reflective literature of his age; and had derived no popularity from any allegiance with the interests or the vices of the day. Those gales of popular opinion, if we may express ourselves, which tossed about the names of many humbler contemporaries, seem very seldom to have caught up that of Barrow. He was, in truth, above his age. Nor had he thought it desirable to build up, during his life-time, that great reputation for sacred eloquence which posterity has universally assigned to him. He only published two sermons. Tillotson, whom he had known when a student of Clare Hall, was to present them to the public, and to construct out of those precious mines his own softer and more flowing system of rhetoric.

One particular circumstance, however, of his history has been fortunately recorded, and ought to be had in perpetual remembrance. Barrow was what is commonly called a dull boy; and his father's prayer, that if God would take any one of his children he hoped it might be Isaac, has descended to posterity as a striking instance of parental delusion. The father of Barrow has not been without successors. The youthful character of Sheridan is familiar to every one; but an anecdote which has been related of Thomas Warton, the ingenious historian of our poetry, may not be in the recollection of some of our readers. Thomas, accompanied by his brother Joseph, the accomplished friend of Young, was walking with his father in the neighbourhood of Windsor. The surrounding scenery, and the solemn and animating associations of the place, appeared to produce no effect upon the boy: "There goes Thomas," said the sorrowful father, "caring for none of these things;" yet that very Thomas Warton was to become, in a few years, one of the

most elegant writers of his age; and to entertain, throughout his life, the most ardent attachment to every ancient castle and decoration of chivalry, and monastic solitude of learning. So it was with the child Barrow. Isaac soon began to dispute among the Doctors; and it ought to be considered to be the glory of his life, that he continued, during so many years, disputing and preaching in the Temple, and labouring in the service of his DIVINE MASTER. Barrow was not always understood or appreciated. Happening upon one occasion to preach for Dr. Wilkins, at the Old Jewry, the congregation, startled by his uncouth and shabby appearance, hastily quitted the church before he had commenced his sermon, leaving only two or three persons behind, of whom the famous Baxter was one. At another time, when he was preaching in Westminster Abbey, the officers of the church impatiently played him down with the organ, and the orator was obliged to yield to the superior lungs of the instrument. Even within academic walls, his elaborate argument weighed upon his hearers, who seemed to drag, at each remove, "a lengthening chain." To write sermons formed the employment of Barrow during a considerable period of his life. He was accustomed to copy out, with great diligence, passages from Demosthenes and Chrysostom; and the frequency of his transcriptions is attested by the manuscripts themselves. Hence that pregnancy of thought, which lends so much value to his works; and which induced Warburton to say, that when he read Barrow he was obliged to think. In the library of Trinity College are preserved thirteen volumes of Barrow's works, in manuscript, partly original and party published. Here may be seen the first elements of his admirable creations; and here, too, may be admired his industrious collection of extracts from Demosthenes, schines, Plutarch, Cicero, and the Fathers of the Church. Of his preparation for the pulpit a characteristic anecdote has been told:-" We were once going from Salisbury to London (writes Dr. Pope), he in the coach with the Bishop and I on horseback; as he was entering the coach, I perceived his pockets sticking out nearly half a foot, and said to him, What have you got in your pockets?' He replied Sermons.' 'Sermons,' said I, 'give them to me, and my boy shall carry them in his portmanteau, and ease you of that luggage.' 'But,' said he, 'suppose your boy should be robbed.' That's pleasant,' said I; 'do you think there are persons padding on the road for sermons ?' 6 Why, what have you,' said he; it may be five or six guineas; I hold my sermons at a greater rate, for they cost me much pains and time.' 'Well then,' said I, if you'll secure my five or six guineas against lay padders, I'll secure your

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sermons against ecclesiastical highwaymen.' This was agreed; he emptied his pockets, and filled my portmanteau with his divinity, and we had the good fortune to come safe to our journey's end, and to bring both our treasures to London."

The inquiring spirit of Barrow swept over every field of literature; and even the light epigrammatists-the painted butterflies of literature-were not thought unworthy of his net. His favourite writers in the classic school were Sophocles, Demosthenes, Aristotle, and, in a later age, Chrysostom; according to Dr. Pope, he preferred Ovid to Virgil, and we have the confirmation of that statement from his own pen. In a Latin speech delivered at Trinity College, he pronounces a glowing eulogy upon the elegaic poet, whose verses he declared to be beyond the reach of art; of a milky sweetness, of a graceful purity of language, and an equable heat and vigour of invention. Ovid. has been, in one or two instances, a fortunate author. He was admired and loved by Milton, and in modern times obtained the applause, and satisfied the refined and critical judgment of Fox. He deserves a large portion, at least, of this praise; but the general voice of criticism has not been so friendly to his claims. No writer, who has attained so lofty a seat in the Temple of Poetry, has received fewer offerings of homage. It is only at long intervals that any incense burns before his shrine, or any lamp is held over the darkness of his tomb. The serene majesty of Virgil has overshadowed him; and the rich and variegated fret-work, so to speak of his fancy, his images of silver, and his beautiful paintings from mythology, have been neglected and despised. Yet there is a picturesque happiness in his groupings, an art in his composition, and, above all, a rich brilliancy in his colouring, that time neither destroys nor even obscures.

That Barrow, who called poetry ingenious nonsense, should have been enamoured of Ovid, is not more singular than numerous other anomalies in the intellectual character. Milton preferred Euripides to either of his rivals on the Athenian stage. Moliere thought that his own genius lay in tragedy. It is curious to find Burke sharing the partiality of Milton, and perusing, with peculiar feelings of pleasure, the aphoristic wisdom of Euripides. But Barrow's study of Chrysostom would certainly not have been traced in his sermons. It seems to have been the delight of one to amplify, of the other to abbreviate; of one to train an image into every shape of luxuriance; of the other, by cutting down the tendrils, to concentrate the juices in the stem. The intellectual character of the Eastern Bishop was tinged with a softness of fancy, that wore almost the aspect of effeminacy. Barrow, on the one hand, was vigorous in his mind as in his

limbs; his frame was of iron. When a schoolboy at the Charter House, his amusements were always violent, and frequently dangerous; nor did his youthful courage and daring ever forsake him. When sailing over the Ionian sea the ship was attacked by a corsair; Barrow, we are told, "stuck manfully to his gun," and materially assisted in beating off the pirate. Upon another occasion he forced an infuriated mastiff to the ground, and held him there by the exertion of personal strength.

Maury declared that he knew nothing more astonishing, or more inimitable, in Christian eloquence, than the first parts of Bourdaloue's sermons on the "Conception," the "Passion," and the "Resurrection;" and another French critic, of more recent times, expresses his opinion, that the beginning of his celebrated Passion, in which he proves the death of the Son of God, to be the triumph of his power, ought always to be regarded with sentiments of wonder and delight. Bossuet, he thinks, has produced nothing superior to it. Barrow has also written a noble discourse upon the "Passion of our Lord," less harmoniously composed than the sermon of Bourdaloue, but rising, in particular passages, into a strain of a higher mood. Let us contrast a passage of rhetorical exposition from Bourdaloue, with a passage of argumentative eloquence from Barrow. The oratory of our Church presents no specimen more admirable than this; the diction is beyond all praise for its singular clearness, simplicity, and truth:


"C'est quelque chose, Chrétiens, de bien prodigieux dans l'ordre de la nature, que ce qui nous y' est aujourd'hui representé par la foi; sçavoir, un Dieu souffrant: mais j'ose dire que ce prodigé, tout surprennant qu'il est, n'approche pas encore de celui que la même foi nous découvre dans l'ordre de la grace, quand elle nous met devant les yieux un Dieu pénitent. Telle est néanmoins (ô profondes abymes des conseils de Dieu !) telle est la qualité que le Sauveur du monde a voulu prendre, et qu'il a aussi saintement que constamment soutenue dans tout le cours de son adorable Passion. Tel est ce

Mystère que nous celebrons et parceque, selon l'Ecriture, la vraie pénitence consiste surtout en deux choses; la contrition qui nous fait détester le péché, et la satisfaction qui doit expier le péché ;


"Another advantage of this kind of suffering was, that by it the nature of that kingdom which he did intend to erect, was evidently signified: That it was not such as the carnal people did expect-an external, earthly, temporal kingdom; consisting in domination over the bodies, and estates of men, dignified by outward wealth and splendour, managed by worldly power and policy, promoted by forcible compulsion and terror of arms, affording the advantage of safety, quiet, and tranquillity here; but a kingdom purely spiritual, celestial, eternal; consisting in the governance of men's hearts and minds, adorned with the endowments of wisdom and virtue, administered by the conduct and grace of God's Holy Spirit; upheld and propagated by meek instruction, by virtuous example, by hearty devotion, and humble

quand je dis un Dieu penitent; j'entends un Dieu touché de la contrition la plus vive en vue du péché de l'homme. J'entends un Dieu satisfaisant aux depens de luimeme et dans toute la rigueur de la justice pour le péché de l'homme; deux obligations dont l'HommeDieu, Jesus Christ-s'ètoit chargé dès le premier instant de sa vie, et dont vous allez voir, s'il s'acquitta exactement au jour de sa Passion. Car voilà les deux états et comme les deux scènes, où je vais produire ce Médiateur par excellence entre Dieu et les hommes. Le Jardin où il s'affligea, et le Calvaire où il expira. Le Jardin où il s'affligea ; c'est-là que je ferai parôitre un Dieu contrit et ressentant toute l'amertume du péché. Le Calvaire où il expira; c'est-là que je vous ferai contempler dans sa personne un Dieu immolé pour la reparation du péché."*

patience; rewarding its loyal subjects with spiritual joys and consolations now, with heavenly rest and bliss hereafter. No other kingdom would he presume to design, who submitted to this dolorous and disgraceful way of suffering; no other exploits could he pretend to achieve, by expiring on a cross; no other way could he rule, who gave himself to be managed by the will of his adversaries; no other benefits could this forlorn case allow him to dispense."

We shall consider, more closely, the peculiar nature of the eloquence of Bourdaloue and Barrow in the closing summary of our remarks.

When Massillon arrived at Paris, he was asked to give his opinion respecting the popular preachers of the day. I find them," he replied, "full of talent and ingenuity; but if I preach, it shall be in a different manner." He kept his word. But, without entering into any analysis of his sermons, which would lead us beyond the limits of this paper, we may refer to that famous passage in the Discourse "sur les Elus," which has obtained so great a celebrity in traditional story. Of this passage several versions have been given; we shall offer two, prefacing them with a very few and very brief remarks.

The writer of the preface prefixed to the edition of his works published in 1743, furnishes a few particulars respecting the appearance of Massillon in the pulpit. He entered it with the air of one oppressed by the solemnity of his meditations; his face announced the grandeur of the truths he was going to deliver. Before he had opened his mouth, we are told, the congregation felt the spell. When at length he began to unfold his subject, the orator was forgotten in the man. Every word seemed to be spoken by nature; and consummate art enabled him to conceal art. His manner was at once calm yet animtated.

*P. 146-7. Edition, 1726. Tome premier.

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