since it is not he who is responsible for what is said herein.
Of Traherne's theological opinions, and of the sound- ness or otherwise of his teaching, I must, as I have intimated, leave others to speak. My own interest is rather in the man himself than in his beliefs. The latter he shared with many dull and uninspired theologians of his time, though with the difference that his was a living and burning faith while theirs was a matter of custom and convention. It is hardly possible that any one can now believe in the Christian faith (as it was then understood) as Traherne and his contemporaries believed in it. But this, I think, matters not, or matters
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very little. It is not at all necessary to believe as Milton believed in order to appreciate " Paradise Lost " : nor is it any more necessary to subscribe to the doctrines of Christianity as Traherne subscribed to them in order to derive much spiritual benefit from the " Centuries." Notwithstanding the fervour of the author's faith in his creed, it is noteworthy that there is much in his work which is not distinctively Christian, and which may be accepted by men of all shades of opinion. This is not to say that there is anything in the book which is contrary to the Christian faith ; but only that there is much besides in it. It might indeed be fitted by omission only for the use of members of any creed or sect. Nor will Theists or even Pantheists fail to find much in it with which they will be in thorough agreement or complete sympathy. None in short save those who are so firmly wedded to their own narrow creed that they can see nothing good in anything outside it, can fail to find in the " Centuries " guidance, refreshment and inspiration for their spiritual life. The books which render such services are few in number ; and few of those few are so little alloyed with matter of inferior worth or of questionable tendency as the " Centuries." There are, I suppose, hardly any books in which a serious and thoughtful reader cannot discover some blemish, though it may be one which only slightly affects their worth or usefulness. Nor is the present work free from one such blemish : or at least what appears to me to be one. There is a passage in it which to all—or nearly all—readers of the present day will seem entirely repellent, and
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entirely at variance with the general spirit of the work. I wish indeed I could have omitted it ; and I would have done so could I have reconciled the act to my conscience. But Traherne, like Cromwell, is too great to need to have his blemishes concealed. So great was his sense of the necessity of faith in God and in the Christian doctrines that he thought no punishment could be too great for those who, as he judged, wilfully rejected the means of salvation. This was pardonable enough, since it was the frame of mind in which most believers of his time regarded the sins of heresy or unbelief. But Traherne went a step farther even than this. It was a sensation no less of grief than of astonishment that filled me when I first came upon the following passage in the first " Century " (No. 48) :—
" They that look into Hell here may avoid it hereafter. They that refuse to look into Hell upon earth to consider the manner of the torments of the damned shall be forced in Hell to see all the earth, and remember the felicities which they had when they were living. Hell itself is a part of God's kingdom, to wit His prison. It is fitly mentioned in the enjoyment of the world : And is itself by the happy enjoyed, as a part of the world."
That Traherne should have believed in a material hell, can be, of course, no matter of surprise ; though we may regret that he was not, in that respect, in advance of his time. But that he should actually have thought that the knowledge that countless multitudes were suffering eternal torments would add to the xxiv
enjoyment of the blessed (for I cannot see that his words will bear any other construction) is, I must needs think, much to be lamented. It is true that the thought did not originate with Traherne, and that others before and since his time have entertained it ; but that one so enlightened as he should have held so inhuman a belief is surely a thing to be deeply regretted. So much I have felt bound to say, for I hold (as I think most men, whatever their religious opinions may be, now hold) that any belief which shocks our sense of humanity must necessarily be false. Better not believe in God at all than believe Him to be a cruel and unforgiving tyrant. But that was not, unhappily, the general opinion until long after Traherne's time ; and I suppose that even now there are some few zealots who believe in predestination and eternal punishment. That it is not now possible for any good man to think or write as Traherne thought and wrote in the passage I have quoted is at any rate a proof that humanity since his time has gone forward a long way upon the path of enlightenment.
Of our author as a literary artist much might be said ; and it was my first intention to dwell at considerable length upon this aspect of his work. This, however, I will not now attempt to do, except in the merest out- line. A good many critics, judging only from the specimen extracts from the " Centuries " and " Christian Ethicks," which I quoted in the Introduction to the poems, have expressed the opinion that Traherne was a greater master of prose than of verse : and it
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must, I think, be confessed that his prose is free from some defects with which his verse may be fairly charged. His prose style, it seems to me, was entirely his own ; for I know of no model which he could have followed or imitated. Certainly it was not the usual style of his own time, or of the Elizabethan period. It has not the least resemblance to the style of Milton, of Jeremy Taylor, or of Sir Thomas Browne. Nor was it, I think, the result of any conscious effort on the authors' part to distinguish himself as a master of style. He wrote clearly, strongly, and beautifully because his mind was full of his subject, and he had a most earnest desire to impart to others those truths which he himself fervently believed, and which he was convinced that all must believe who would attain the life of blessedness. It was said of Robespierre, I think, that " this man will go far, for he believes every word he says ! " Whether that was true of him I do not know : but assuredly it might have been truly said of Traherne. Whatever the worth of his ideas may be, it is certain that he fervently believed in them ; and therefore his words still pulsate with vital force, and still glow with the warmth of conviction. This utter sincerity of thought, though it is not indeed the only requisite for a great writer, is yet, I think, the one indispensable quality without which all others are useless. With it and with little else, Bunyan produces a work which, in the universality of its appeal, is almost without a rival : without it, how many works full of learning, eloquence, and a hundred other good qualities, have fallen into entire oblivion !
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No toil of the brain, no effort of will, no learning .or study, could ever have produced such a passage as the following, had there not been in the author's soul a fire of conviction which gave life and heat to his conceptions as they issued in rapid succession from the forge of thought :—
" You are as prone to love as the sun is to shine ; it being the most natural and delightful employment of the soul of Man : without which you are dark and miserable. Consider therefore the extent of Love, its vigour and excellency. For certainly he that delights not in Love makes vain the universe, and is of necessity to himself the greatest burden. The whole world ministers to you as the theatre of your Love. It sus-bins you and all objects that you may continue to love them. Without which it were better for you to have no being. Life without objects is sensible emptiness, and that is a greater misery than death or nothing. Objects without Love are the delusion of life. The Objects of Love are its greatest treasures : and without Love it is impossible they should be treasures. For the objects which we love are the pleasing objects, and delightful things. And whatsoever is not pleasing and delightful to you can be no treasure, nay, it is distasteful and worse, since we had rather it should have no being."
Is there any passage in prose or verse in which the praise of love is chanted more eloquently or more convincingly than it is chanted here ? Did even Shelley in his " Epipsychidion " eulogise it with more power of
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expression, or greater force of persuasiveness ? Yet if we analyse the passage we shall find that it is made up of simple and common words, put together seemingly