of this illustration, to say nothing of the bitterness it expresses. Protestantism has not destroyed in its insolence, as Mr. Ruskin asserts. When it has turned destroyer, it has been under a stern mistake. If it has destroyed an image it was because it confounded the image with the superstition with which it was associated. It did not destroy "beautiful things" because of its contempt for them, but because of its sacred horror of the misleading uses to which they were put. Protestantism has not worked with a grubbing snout, as Mr. Ruskin supposes, but in the stern and high spirit of Moses, when he destroyed the golden calf after his direct intercourse with God. If "Protestant and Evangelical art can only draw a pig, as Mr. Ruskin says, the spirit they embody has given a spiritual beauty to human souls, which is not to be held in contempt because it has not succeeded equally well in putting a sensuous beauty on canvas. A man's soul is surely as capable of enrichment as a canvas. A thing of beauty may be a joy for ever, but a living soul, pure and free, must transcend this, as the spiritual must forever transcend that which is material. No Protestant need be ashamed because his faith seeks first the kingdom of heaven; to make men "new creatures" rather than to paint pictures. Besides the type of Protestant witness which Mr. Ruskin finds in "a little porker," he produced a sketch of the hypocritical Protestant, a sketch in black and white of a "truly repulsive Mr. Stiggins, with a concertina." There is no doubt Mr. Ruskin has some reason for this sketch. Protestantism does not only not render hypocrisy impossible, but its very freedom gives opportunity for sordid aims and offensive assumptions. The Messrs. Stiggins, unfortunately, do not stop at concertinas. They have more brazen methods of proclaiming their loud-mouthed thankfulness that they are not as other men. No doubt, it is one of the greatest defects of Protestantism, or one of its most conspicuous abuses, that these Stiggins's can flourish with so much success. The methods of howling Dervishes have been translated into the professions of piety, and neither piety nor Protestantism gain so long as selfish gain prospers in the degree of loud professions. But on this matter, I will only ask one question, Has Catholicism no hypocrisy for which it is responsible? In contrast to these types of Protestant witness, the porker and Mr. Stiggins, Mr. Ruskin mentions a Catholic and brave man. This man was a certain Doge of Venice, who brought back from his wars some famous pillars, and the dead bodies of two saints. Venice, Mr. Ruskin says, was covetous not only of gold, and kingdoms, and pillars of marble and granite, but " also, and quite principally, of the relics of good people." Good people can have an immortality without a superstitious reverence for their relics. Mr. Ruskin speaks as if there were some special virtues in these relics. It seems surprising that he can overlook the base and degrading uses to which such relics have been put. For this service to Venice, this Doge has this inscription written on his tomb: "Whoever thou art who comest to behold this tomb of his, bow thyself down before God because of him." This, Mr. Ruskin says, expresses the feelings of all old Catholics. They worship not the hero or the saint, but "God, because of him." Is this so? And what is there new in this which is not equally true of Protestantism? Mr. Ruskin in his second lecture referred to Generals Gordon and Havelock as latter-day saints. Can it be said that Protestants worship these men rather than "God, because of them"? These two men represent Protestantism in one of its noblest forms, but there no fear that Protestants will ever worship them. They think more of the virtues of these men than they do of "the relics of good people." History tells us what degrading abuses have come out of thinking too highly of these "relics." Men rarely worship God through these, stopping rather at the relics themselves, and by superstition degrading and debasing their manhood. If a Protestant, on the contrary, thinks of Gordon or Havelock, he thinks more of the Great Being whose living inspirations made these men what they were. It is one of the commonest formulas of Protestant speech that such men are what they are "by the grace of God." Mr. Ruskin will have to bring something stronger than these Catholic caprices and criticisms before he shakes the firm foundations of Protestantism in this country. 66 I think Mr. Ruskin's outburst of antipathy to Protestantism may be accounted for largely owing to his unrelenting hatred of the methods and ways of modern industrialism. Machinery he hates, and the places where it stands. These are to him the abomination of desolation;" the desolation, as he thinks, of all rustic simplicity, of all pastoral beauty, and of all sweet and peaceful intercourse between men and nature. Our industrialism is a devil's furnace to him, and the smoke of its torment ascendeth up for ever, blotting out or besmirching the pure face of heaven, and covering with a vaporous and poisonous pall the struggling and half-choked millions beneath. But, it may be asked, what has all this to do with Protestantism? The reply is simple. Protestantism freed the intellect of men wherever it prevailed. It prevailed nowhere more powerfully than in England. This free intellect entered upon a course of mighty activity. It sought to find out the powers and forces of nature. It sought to release them from the captivity of ages of ignorance. Priestcraft had said these powers were not, or, if they were, they belonged to the devil. This free intellect discovered science, and saw no devil in all its mighty realms. This made it more eager, more adventurous, and more intrepid. Nature's secret places were found to be not too holy for entrance, and its secret forces in no alliance with the evil one. The free Protestant intellect found that all that was true in magic was natural law, and all that was false was of ignorance, and of that ignorance which priestcraft had fondly nourished. This discovery produced resentment, and this resentment took the form of scepticism. Science, through this conflict, became too secular. Its quest was not beautiful cathedrals, or even sublime paintings to swell the pomp and power of priestcraft. It sought mastery in the physical realm-perhaps too exclusively, but it strenuously sought mastery there. What wind could do, what water could do, and what fire could do, were seized. But it was felt that a more commanding force was near, asking to be captured and employed. This was done in the discovery and the use of steam, and out of steam, not like an exhalation, but as out of a real and mighty magic, rose our present industrial system, with its machinery and mills, its railways and aqueducts, and all the thousand and one vast abominations which the soul of Mr. Ruskin hates. Supposing that science has destroyed the primitive beauty of the country? Supposing all its idyllic charms have fled, like the spray of summer seas before the dark and angry billows of winter? Has science done all it can do? May it not some day command a force mightier than steam, and clear and pure as the blue firmament ? That is quite within the range of possibility, and even within a measurable distance of probability. Electricity may yet redeem us from the bondage of our industrialism, and make labour and the places of labour easier and sweeter. Rural life, and the simple industries which follow it, mean a very limited life. Industrialism means a manifold life, with more command of power and with more sense of the dominion which the Creator gave to man over all His works. What is wanted is not the destruction of this industrialism, but such alleviations as will give to labour an unsullied dignity, and compatibility with all that is pure in taste and noble in capacity for the highest enjoyments. Now, it may be safely asserted that Catholicism would never have led to such a development as this. Priestcraft, with all its powers, lying on the spiritual side of man, would never have promoted such awakening, such dominant activity of brain and limb as our modern industrialism requires. Priests have ruled Italy for centuries, and yet it is only to-day that the Roman Campagna is to be drained, and the malarial fever, which has been a curse for generations, removed from near the city where Popes have reigned in supremacy. Even this is to be done under one of the most promising forms of modern industrialism—that of co-operation. This is a genuine Protestant product, and ought to count for something against its shortcomings in the higher arts. We are told of bodies of masons who moved about Europe during the Middle Ages, like the body of men now about to deal with the Campagna. These men built cathedrals and bridges. No doubt both were useful in their way, but if some of the labour expended on churches had been given to the homes of the people, to drainage, and to the removal of the sources of the Black Death, and other forms of pestilence, Mr. Ruskin might have found fewer beautiful churches in the old cities of Europe, but the generations of those past times would have found more of God's will done on earth as it is done in heaven. Doing God's will on earth, as science teaches it, and as Protestantism has too slowly learned, is a thing Priestcraft never dreamt of, and never encouraged. Superstition, even in its greatest material works, in all lands and in all times, has always sought its own immediate aggrandisement, and not the broad interests of the millions it controlled. That can never be said of Protestantism. It has promoted the freest and fullest endeavour after the general welfare, and to-day its proudest claim is that its adherents are found among the most prosperous peoples of the world. Whatever Mr. Ruskin may say about Catholics thinking the day will come when power will come to them again, the Protestant nations now carry the promise and power of the future. And the reason of this is that the right of private judgment is the wellspring of man's freest activity in every province of life. This principle is as vital in the realm of faith and social life as is gravitation in the order of the physical universe. Mr. Ruskin speaks of Catholic vision seeing things that are not as though they were. Protestantism holds with an invincible faith that there is no vision like that given by the Eternal Spirit of God, which imparts to life its noblest activity, and carries it on to its highest and divinest possibilities. CHARLES SHAW. If a canoe be connected by a cord with a distant ship, one in the canoe may draw himself to the ship, if he cannot draw the ship to himself. So, as has been said, is it with prayer. If it do not bring God to man, it will man to God. And this is always well for man. THE COMFORTER. "I believe in the Holy Ghost."-Apostles' Creed. HOLY SPIRIT, Heavenly Dove, O, how much to Thee we owe, But for Thine illuming ray, Thou didst give us first to see And whose love-illumin'd face, Who the blessings may recount In a ceaseless stream do flow, Truths and promises which shine Graces that enrich the soul; All ennobling thoughts and pure; Glowing zeal the heart to fire; Love which makes our burdens Precious faith by which we see ; All have come to us through Thee, Sweetest comfort that we know, Still, O blessed Paraclete, Day by day our hearts renew, O Thou gracious, Heavenly Friend, Here our chief felicity; And, in ages yet to come, |