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 without art or contrivance, and with no attempt to do anything save to write down as rapidly as might be the thoughts that surged through the author's brain, and imperatively demanded utterance. Throughout the work indeed the author, it appears to me, was writing at high pressure, urged on by a belief that he had a duty to perform, which perhaps he feared that death might prevent him from accomplishing. Shall we say even that there is some trace of feverishness, or of the over-excitement of the enthusiast in his work ? Possibly it may be so ; but Traherne's enthusiasm was the source of his power, and the motive-force of his spirit. It was not in his nature to balance between two opinions, or act upon motives of expediency. A positive faith, admitting of no doubts or misgivings, was a necessity of his existence. It was easier for him to understand how men could be absolute unbelievers, than how they could be mere indifferent conformists. I am almost tempted to assert that he was the truest Christian that ever lived,—by which I mean that he was the one who believed most entirely in the faith, and ruled his conduct most strictly in accordance with its precepts. Of course this may be disputed by all those Christians who are not members of the Church of England ; but all who look to the essentials of the faith, and disregard the minor differences of its various sects, will, I am sure, allow that a more perfect Christian xxviii
than Traherne could not be. Nor has the Church, I firmly believe, ever had an advocate whose life and whose works could plead more eloquently in its favour than the life and the works of the author of " Centuries of Meditations."
Here I must end. I am well aware how lamely and how imperfectly I have dealt with my theme. Perhaps I should have entrusted the task to some more competent and sympathetic hand ; but I preferred to try how far it was possible for me, whose opinions differ so widely from Traherne's, to do justice to so fine a spirit and so admirable a writer. Whether I have altogether failed I do not know : but if I have, it will matter little. It is not by any words of another that Traherne will be finally judged. If his own words still have the fire of life in them—as I firmly believe they have—they will carry their message to the ears of those fitted to receive it during many coming generations : may I not say indeed even as long as the language of Shakespeare and Milton endures ?
NOTE
A friend, who has been kind enough to look over the proof-sheets of this book, thinks that I have somewhat misapprehended the author's meaning in my comments upon the passage in which Traherne, as I understand him, seems to assert that the happiness of the blessed will be enhanced by the thought that others are suffering eternal torments I should, of course, be very glad
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to find myself mistaken on this point : but at present I am unable to see that any meaning can be placed upon the last sentence of the passage which I have quoted, save that which I have indicated.
Another friend, who has also seen the proof-sheets of the Introduction, is moved to protest against the statement of my opinion as to the unsuitability of " The Imitation of Christ" for the use of members of the Church of England. He has pointed out to me that ever since its first translation into the English language, it has been very largely used by members of the English Church, not only with the approval, but with the direct sanction of many of the leading authorities of the Anglican communion. There are, he adds, not more than two or three passages in the " Imitation " which can possibly be regarded as contrary to the tenets of the English Church. I am a child in these matters, and I will not dispute these facts. After all, my argument was not so much directed to show that the " Imitation " was an unsuitable book for Protestant readers, as to point out that Traherne's work, having been written by one of the most zealous ministers of the English Church, is necessarily better suited for members of that Church, and of the Nonconformist Churches, than a work which was written by a Roman Catholic for Roman Catholics. But, as I have already said, I have no wish to disparage the " Imitation " ; all I desire to do is to show that Traherne's " Centuries " is worthy to be placed beside it.
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CENTURIES OF MEDITATIONS
A
[Author's inscription on the first leaf of
"Centuries of Meditations "]
This book unto the friend of my best friend
As of the wisest Love a mark I send,
That she may write my Maker's prais therin
And make her self therby a Cherubin.
THE FIRST CENTURY
1
AN empty book is like an infant's soul, in which anything may be written. It is capable of all things, but containeth nothing. I have a mind to fill this with profitable wonders. And since Love made you put it into my hands I will fill it with those Truths you love without knowing them : with those things which, if it be possible, shall shew my Love ; to you in communicating most enriching Truths : to Truth in exalting her beauties in such a Soul.
2
Do not wonder that I promise to fill it with those
Truths you love but know not ; for though it be
