philosophical intellect of Zwingle, threw over all life a more
than monastic gloom. The learning and eloquence by which the
great Reformers had been eminently distinguished, and to which
they had been, in no small measure, indebted for their success,
were regarded by the new school of Protestants with suspicion, if
not with aversion. Some precisians had scruples about teaching
the Latin grammar, because the names of Mars, Bacchus, and Apollo
occurred in it. The fine arts were all but proscribed. The solemn
peal of the organ was superstitious. The light music of Ben
Jonson's masques was dissolute. Half the fine paintings in
England were idolatrous, and the other half indecent. The extreme
Puritan was at once known from other men by his gait, his garb,
his lank hair, the sour solemnity of his face, the upturned white
of his eyes, the nasal twang with which he spoke, and above all,
by his peculiar dialect. He employed, on every occasion, the
imagery and style of Scripture. Hebraisms violently introduced
into the English language, and metaphors borrowed from the
boldest lyric poetry of a remote age and country, and applied to
the common concerns of English life, were the most striking
peculiarities of this cant, which moved, not without cause, the
derision both of Prelatists and libertines.

Thus the political and religious schism which had originated in
the sixteenth century was, during the first quarter of the
seventeenth century, constantly widening. Theories tending to
Turkish despotism were in fashion at Whitehall. Theories tending
to republicanism were in favour with a large portion of the House
of Commons. The violent Prelatists who were, to a man, zealous
for prerogative, and the violent Puritans who were, to a man,
zealous for the privileges of Parliament, regarded each other