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    f force nd violence ; there is no just mutual estimate of iews and efforts;—there , personal ties and plation- are poisoned ; there the difference of inion s traced to the most dishonourable sources ; Sp opponent in principles is looked upon as a personal 'L the erring as a criminal ; and , generally , pverv individual , without regard to his real worth , is only that which he is to his party . " Into this age Gregory was born . The date is not now ascertainable , but is assumed to be a . d . 330 The place is a little town in the south-west of Cappadpcia , called Nazianzum . His father was bishop ; but to his mother more than to his father did he owe the better parts of his education . But the time came when he was to leave home , and seek in Athens for all the culture which was then not then the

    the glory of the world . Athens was brilliant home of genius which we are wont to picture it . Socrates was absent from the Agora ; Plato ' s disciples no longer thrpnged to the groves of Academus ; Demosthenes had taken the pebbles from his mouth , and was now pacing the shores of another ocean , and not striving to raise his voice above its roar . But Athens was still the greatest Residence of Learning . Some of its old glory warmed it still . The earth is warm long after the sun has set ! From Armenia and other Asiatic provinces the students flocked to Athens , as in our days provincials flock to London or Paris . Once arrived there , the student was bewildered . The din of professors distracted him . So many teachers , and all with partisans !

    11 unprejudiced youth could scarcely set his foot upon Attic ground without being already claimed by the adherents of a party : they wrangled , they struggled , they threw themselves around him ; and it might easily happen that-a young man was torn quite ' away from the very teacher whom he had come expressly to attend . The whole of Greece was drawn into' this partisanship of the students for their favourite sophists ; so that this recruiting ( or touting ) was carried on in the streets and harbours of other cities also- Nor were the literary disputes and altercations of the different schools , among themselves , less animated ; indeed , they seldom concluded without coming to blows . "

    Here » n Athens Grego-y first met with Basil , and a friendship . at once sprang up between them . Together they studied rhetoric , grammar , mathematics , philosophy , and music . " How seduc ingly must heathenism have often presented itself to them , clothed as it was in the attractive garb of poetry and philosophy . Before them stood respected masters , who recommended the old religion with all the insinuaiii > g art of ihetoric , and their myths by the philosophical mysticism with which they expounded them , and sought to soften what was offensive in them by means of allegories .

    Around them , in the heights and in the valleys , stood the serene and noble temples of the gods of antiquity ; and whichever way they looked , the gods themselves presented themselves in agreeable and nitractive , or in grave nnd venerable forms . In truth , Athens was still , at that time , the most atractive seat of heathenism in Greece ; nowhere else had it so many friends , so many weighty and influential panegyrists . It whs no easy matter , under these circximstnjices , to continue a true Christian ; indeed , many Christian youths were here won over to the old faith . "

    Gregory , however , stood firm , so did Basil ; and the Church gained two of its greatest ornaments . Gregory was in the bloom of youth when he arrived at Athens ; thirty when fie quitted it . He had dedicated his life to God . Very early he had declared himself against marriage and the ties of this world ; and now the ascetic side of Christianity seems to have risen into excessive prominence m his mind , and he was nearly quitting the world altogether for solitude . But although renouncing " pleasures "—even music—as sensual , he finally was led into active life , and became bishop himself . For an account of this , however , we refer to J ) r . Ullman ' s volume .

    There is one point , which Vivian will observe with rcgiet—vix ., the complete silence of Dr . oilman with regard to the Xpto-ro <; ir «< rxro » , which , a « the earliest specimen of European dra - matic arl , and as a drama performed in efaurekeay deserved Im at . tent . i 6 n . He might agree wit h those who doubt that it was written by Gregory ; f"it at least he might have made some mention of 11 , and stated the grounds of hi « rejection . If Gregory wrote no tragedy of the kind , what in the "leaning of that passage in his oration ?— "My tragedy has become a comedy to the enemy ; for they have taken not n little from our churches , in order to transfer it to the theatre . " The rage for dramatic performances at Con-Kti uitinople was enough indeed to have created a f lisgust m Gregory ' s mind : —

    " The splendid city , * around which ( as Gregory says ) ' sea and land emulously contend , in order to load it with all their best gifts , and to crown her as the Queen of cities , ' had been already during the governments of several emperors , the storehouse of all the riches and all the magnificence of life from the three known quarters of the world . This new Home strove to raise itself in external splendour above the Id city , and already almost surpassed it in the love of

    pleasure , which had been fostered by a corrupt court ; for Julian had in vain sought to bring back the simple habits of ancient Borne . To the inhabitants of Constantinople , as well as to the Romans of later days , the first want was , ' Bread and public amusements' ( panis et Circenses ) . Eaces , the theatre , the chase , contests with wild beasts , public processions , exhibitions of oratory , had , in their turn , become a sort of necessaries of life for persons of all conditions ; so that Gregory might well say there was much reason to fear that the first of cities would

    become a city of mere triflers . " Even religious matters , like everything else , had become to this idle hollow state of mind , objects of jesting and amusement . That which belonged to the theatre was introduced into the church , and things that belonged to the church were , in return , adapted to the theatre . The best feelings of Christianity were not unfrequently submitted in comedies to the scornful laugh of the multitude . " But what was still worse , the unbridled fondness of these people for dissipated enjoyment , threatened to turn the church into a theatre , and the preacher into an act r . If he wished to please the many , he was obliged to accommodate himself to their taste , and to entertain and amuse them in the church . They required also , in the sermon , something to gratify the with theatrical

    ear , glittering declamation , a delivery ; and they then applauded with the same sort of pleasure the actor ( den Koroodianten ) in the holy place , and the histrionic performer on the stage . And alas ! there were found at that time also , too many who sought rather the approbation of men than the good of their souls . How many do I find this day ( says Gregory ) who have undertaken the priestly office , but have artificially adorned the simple , artless piety of our religion , and introduced a new sort of secular oratory into the sanctuary and its holy ministrations , borrowed from the forum and the theatre ! So that we have now , if I may so express myself , two stages , differing from each oiher only in this , that the one stands open to all , the other only to a few ; the one is laughed at , the other is respected ; the one is thea trical , the other clerical . "

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    July 5 , 1851 . ] < ZT f ) 0 3 L £ it t > f t \ 635

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    mere " dith * s poems . Poems . By George Meredith . J . W . Parker Among the many volumes of ambitious verse which the inconsiderate " request of friends " annually usher into public oblivion , there are generally two or three to " repay" the reader , if not the publisher—volumes with glimpses of " the enchanted gardens "—verse writers who have something more than the " accomplishment of verse , " Mr . Meredith ' s volume is one of these . Amidst

    pages of indifferent writing , carelessness , and commonplace , are mingled pages bright with fancy , and musical with emotion . A nice perception of nature , aided by a delicacy of expression , gives to these poems a certain charm not to be resisted ; and , although they betray no depth of insight nor of feeling , although they are neither thoughtful nor impassioned , yet they rise from out the mass of verses by a certain elegance and felicity of expression which distinguish them . Read this and judge : —

    " . The silence of precluded song—. ZEolian silence charms the woods ; Each tree a harp , whose foliaged strings Are waiting for thp master's touch To sweep them into storms of joy . Stands mute and whispers not ; the birda Brood dumb in tlieir foreboding nests , Save here and there a chirp or tweet , That uttors fear or anxious love , Or when the ouzel sends a swift Half warble , shrinking back again His golden bill , or when aloud The Btorm-cock warns the dusking hills And villages and valleys round :

    For lo J beneath those ragged clouds Tfiittrskirt the opening west , a stream Of yellow light and windy flamo Spreads lengthening southward , und the sky Begins to gloom , and o ' er the ground A moan of coming blasts creeps low And rustles in the crisping grttss ; Till suddenly with mighty arms Outspread , that reach the horizon roundU The great South-West drives o ' er the earth . And loosens all his roaring robes Behind hirn , over heath und moor . He cometi upon the neck of night . Like one that leaps a fiery steed Whose keen black haunches quivering shind

    With eagerness and haste , that needs No spur to make the dark leagues fly ! Whose eyes are meteors of speed ; Whose mane is as a flashing foam ; Whose hoofs are travelling thunder-shocks ;—He comes , and while his growing gusts , Wild couriers of his reckless course-Are whistling from the daggered gorse . And hurrying over fern and broom , Midway , far off , he feigns to halt . And gather in his streaming train .

    ' Now , whirring like an eagle ' s wing Preparing for a idde blue flight , — Now , flapping like a sail that tacks And chides the wet bewildered mast , Now , screaming like an anguish'd thing Chased close by some down-breathing beak , Now , wailing like a breaking heart , That will not wholly break , but hopes With hope that knows itself in vain ; Now , threatening like a storm-charged cloud , Now , cooing like a woodland dove , Now , up again in roar and wrath High soaring and wide sweeping , now With sudden fury dashing down Full-force on the awaiting woods .

    " Long waited there , for aspens frail That tinkle with a silver bell , To warn the Zephyr of their love * When danger is at hand , and wake The neighbouring boughs , surrendering all Their prophet harmony of leaves , Had caught his earliest wind ward thought , And told it trembling ; naked birk Down showering her dishevell'd hair ,

    And like a beauty yielding up Her fate to all the elements , Had sway'd in answer ; hazels close , Thick brambles and dark brushwood tufts , And briar'd brakes that line the dells With shaggy beetling brows , had sung Shrill music , whiJe the tattered flaws Tore over them , and now the whole Tumultuous concords seized at once

    With savage inspiration , —pine , And lan-h , and beech , and fir , and thorn , And ash , and oak , and oakling , rave And shriek , and shout , and whirl , and toss , And stietth their arms , aud split , and crack , And bend their , -tenis , and bow their heads , And g rind and groan , and lLon-like Roar to the e . ho peopled hills And ravenous wilds , and crake-like cry

    With harsh delight , and cave like call With hollow mouth , and harp-like thrill With mighty . melodies , sublime , From clumps of columu'd pints that wave A lofiy anthem to the -ky , Fit music for a prophet ' s soul—And like an ocean gathering power , And murmuring deep , while clown below , lit igns calm profound ;— -not trembling now The aHpens , but like freshening waves That fall upon a . shingly beach ; — And round the oak a j-olemn roll Of organ harmony ascends , And in the upper foliage sounds A symphony of distant seas . "

    The versification of these poems is frequently careless and unmusical to a degree that nothing can excuse ; and in general we complain of a want of that care and thought which a true poet would bestow upon his trifles . There is something piquant and alluring in the opening of a pastoral we are about to quote ; but the rugged verse and commonplace conclusion make us regret it was not a fragment ending where our extract ends : — I . OVB IN Till ! VAU . P . Y . " Under yonder beech-tree standing on the green sward , Couch * d with her arms behind her little head , IXo . r knees folded up , and her tresaeB on her bosom , Iiit' 8 my young love Bleeping in the shade . Hud I the heart to slide one arm beneath her ! Press her dreaming lipn hk her waist I folded slow , Waking on tho instant she could not but embrace me—Ah ! would she hold me , find never lot me go ? " Shy as tho squirrel , and wayward as the swallow ; Swift its the swallow when athwart the western flood Circleting the surface he meets his mirror'd winglets , — Is that dear ono in her maiden bud . Shy as the squirrel whoso nest in in tlw pi «« to \ m ; ( Jtfiitle —ah ! that she were jealous hh the dove ! Full of nil the wildncHS of the ; woodbind < rcature » , J hippy in herself is this maiden that 1 love ! «• What can have tuught her di » truut of all I tell her ? Cun elm truly doubt me wh « -n looking vn my brows ?

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), July 5, 1851, page 635, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1890/page/15/