He seems to be
hopelessly befogged; he is as certain as only a virtuous or stupid man
can be that the religious system which he inculcates is the exact and
deliberate development of the Spirit of Christ; and to hear him talk,
you would suppose that the only joy in heaven resulted from a rumour
that another church was added to the list of sanctuaries which had
daily matins. The hopeless difficulty is that he considers his system
so pure and lovely that to modify it in any way would seem to be a
grievous compromise with worldliness, a violation of his high calling;
he looks forward confidently to the time when the people of England
will be a devotional and submissive flock, crowding daily to their
village sanctuaries, and going back home with the glow and glory of the
heavenly mysteries radiating from them in grave smiles and pious
ejaculations.
It all seems to me a profoundly melancholy business. One does not wish
to prevent people from worshipping God in the vicar's way, if they feel
that thus they draw near to the divine presence; but it can only be a
very small minority who will ever find satisfaction in this particular
type of religion; and I must add that, for myself, I would not
unwillingly see that minority reduced. It is a narrow, stuffy, and
secluded region at best, remote from the open air, little alive to
simplicity, manliness, humour, courage, and cheerfulness.
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