ments of literature, and produced a school of rationalism peculiar to the genius of the French people. Entirely different from that of Germany, more plain, practical, realistic, but even more fatal than that to the stability of ecclesiastical and dogmatical traditions, M. Renan had no purpose to set forth a new view of Jesus, or a new theory of the composition of the New Testament. Nothing was further from his mind than the idea of putting himself in opposition to the religious authorities. He was a student of the Oriental languages and literatures, a scientific student. The course of his studies led him to the New Testament, and he wrote his "Vie de Jésus." Under the pressure of literary necessity, under the destiny of the French mind, he was almost as much surprised, apparently, at finding himself writing it as others were to finding it written. The "Strasburg school" is equally a child of the region and the century. It could have had no other parentage, and it was necessary that it should be born in its time.

In England, a great middle class active, intelligent, inquiring, reading, thinking-arose, felt the limitations of the national Church and Creed pressing against them at several points, became restive under the imposed authority, broke away in different forms of dissent, started native schools of speculation, "Secularism," "Rationalism," and set the popular English mind afloat on a sea of opinions over which the winds of political and social agitation were continually blowing. At the same time, a class of professional scholars, fellows of the universities, having nothing to do but read and criticise, reproduced the scholarship and criticism of Germany in certain "Essays and Reviews," and launched the Church on the tides of popular thought and life. The "Broad Church" of England is simply the Church afloat on the times, and drifting with the currents of the working intellect of the age. It is the Church dragged into the stream of modern history, modern reform, modern science, modern practical experience. It is the Church unmoored from the safe shores of the Past, and borne no man can say whither.

In America, the unrestrained liberty of the people in all the departments of life, their complete emancipation from establishments and traditions, their entire absorption in practical pursuits, their general and eager intelligence, their daring enterprise, their inexhaustible impulse, their fertility, their self-reliance, have wrought an insensible change in all habits of mind, usage, and feeling. Nothing can stand still in the powerful current of their common energy. Disintegration goes forward everywhere. The people are not unreligious; on the contrary, they are "very religious:" but they are always desiring "some new thing." The word แ progress" is continually on their lips. They move all over. While the feet run, the soul runs also. They carry their houses with them. The Americans are driven by the Spirit, and go whither they know not. They are, under Providence, men of destiny, hardly knowing what they mean, what they wish, what they believe, or what they worship. They drift in masses, the sport, apparently, of the winds which blow where they list. They are irresponsible for their creed. They "believe as they go along;" and they go along so fast that it is not easy at any moment to say, "Lo here!" or "Lo there!" The masses distance the leaders. The teachers toil on after pupils. The guides follow, and bring up the rear. Nobody can talk fast enough to say what is in the people's mind. They feel further than he sees. The great elements of influence travel and impel more rapidly than individual thinkers can march. Trained, cultivated, and careful thought must act the part of conservative. The minds that go in advance of the great public, and seem to guide it, are minds that are more sensitive than the rest to the finer currents of thought that permeate and control the century; minds more readily detached from their old connections, more responsive to breaths of air, and more nimble in following out the direction that is appointed.

Besides such general influences as we have mentioned, incidental and special influences come in. We will say nothing about the antislavery movement, the effect of which has been so apparent in modifying the theological opinions, and

breaking up the ecclesiastical relations, of great multitudes of the people. It is now clearly understood, at least by all readers of the "Examiner," that the rushing of the mighty wind of moral reform into the hot vacuum of the South has made dogmas and opinions swirl about fearfully, and has driven crowds away from stationary and stubborn establishments. Orthodoxy has had no more formidable foe than reform, which, at the start, was fully Orthodox itself. The earthquake that shook the Church was an agitation which hoped to make the Church Christian. More potent in its disintegrating power than reform, was the phenomenon called "Spiritualism." The effect of this phenomenon was amazing. It generated currents of air which swept the land like a tornado, carrying all before them. Never did such vast and radical results proceed from a cause apparently so slight. The theological

atmosphere was seemingly still. The communions were unbroken. The sects maintained their integrity. The people looked stupidly acquiescent in the doctrines that were taught them by their clergy. No signs forboded a slide. Unitarianism and Universalism were unpopular. Disbelief was unpopular. The religious life of the masses presented an exception to all their other life. Intellect, feeling, conscience, faith, hope, love, were active in every field save that of the spirit. The soul was lethargic. No new ideas on spiritual things were in vogue. All on a sudden the "rappings" are heard, tables begin to tip, mahogany vibrates, and one whole side of the calm mountain of the common mind comes down in fierce avalanche, and rushes across the continent, depopulating churches, desolating homes of faith, scattering communions, burying shrines, and covering the fair gardens of religion with heaps of ruin. There seemed no very visible connection here between cause and effect; but the rationale of the movement is, after all, obvious enough.

The spiritual calmness we have described above as existing in the churches existed only in appearance. The churches were undermined by indifference, doubt, and silent disbelief. Great bodies of the popular intelligence were ready to become dislodged from the accepted faith, and waited but the

jostle which should effect the dislodgement. A new growth of opinion, almost a new philosophy of divine and human things, had been coming up beneath the existing habits of thought, till those habits were scarcely more than a crust over the fresh earth, and very little disturbance was necessary to remove it. The rappings and tippings furnished the needful occasion, and started the mass. The popular mind, always credulous, and inclined to superstition, always craving the supernatural, jumped at the inference that a spiritual agency was at work; that intelligences of another sphere had found access to this, had instituted means of communication with mortals, had torn away the veil, had broken down the partition, and made the next world and this world

one.

The fact, imaginary or otherwise, the inference, just or not, moved the received theology to its foundations, unseated every dogma, made the churches tremble, and set the creeds driving headlong down stream. For the establishment of communication between this world and the next contradicted at once the Orthodox assumption, that those worlds were separated by an impassable gulf; that probation ended with this term of being, and that retribution began with the opening of the other; that this world was one of trial, and the other was a world of doom. Both worlds ran together. Both lives ran together. The thread of existence was not snapped by the grave. Death made no break. Existence simply went on in another sphere; and progress, development, was its law. Thought, affection, sentiment, remained unimpaired. Consciousness was not suspended. Vital ties were not weakened. There was a family in heaven and in earth. Of course, hell was abolished. Eternal punishment was abolished. Punishment, in the vulgar sense of retributive suffering, was abolished. This world and its relations were legitimated at once. The Devil was cast out of it. The curse was removed. What became now of the depravity of human nature? What became of the atoning sacrifice? What became of the deity of Christ? What became of the sacraments, and other appliances for securing the salvation

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of souls? What became of the priesthood? Clearly every dogma had received a shock. The cords of tradition were all cut at a stroke: the axe was laid at the root of the tree, and down it came. No matter what the spirits revealed, or whether they revealed any thing. The communication might be important or unimportant, wise or foolish. It made no difference. The spirits were there, in that room; not shut up in an inaccessible heaven or in an inaccessible hell. They were there; there was no gulf between. The illusion of ages was dispelled in an instant; and the popular mind broke away from its ancient beliefs, or carried its ancient beliefs with it into new climates, where the substance of them was decomposed by the light and air. The effect which Spiritualism has produced on the spiritual life of America cannot be exaggerated in language. It is very indefinite; but it is very profound. It has caused a stir and ferment in the whole religious mind. Believers in Spiritualism are found in all sects; but, wherever they are, the position of the sect is totally changed. A new view of truth prevails. Dogmas are set in a novel light, and theology is found many leagues removed from its ancient localities.

If we inquire for definite and positive results, it must be confessed that they are hard to find. The Drift period exhibits the process of becoming. The products will appear by and by. Spiritualism has done much to clear away the old theologies, and make an open field for speculation. It has not only covered the intellectual plain with ruins, but it has succeeded to a great degree in removing the ruins it has made. It has set the mind free, as well as laid a course for it to travel over. Spiritualists are open to new ideas, are eager for them, are sure they can be attained. Their prejudices are gone, their connections are dissolved, their memories are dissipated. If the movement had done nothing more than give the intellect, the faith, the hope of man, a fair opportunity to revise their records, recover their breath, and re-adjust their relations with the Infinite, it would have conferred an inestimable benefit on us. If it had given us no new ideas, but only demolished old ones more effectually than