"
This is a fine defence of the inviolability of a good and proper book.
A bad book will generally die of itself, but there is something horribly
malignant about a wicked book, as it must always be worse than a
wicked man, for a man can repent, but a book cannot.
It is the men of letters who keep alive the books of the great from
generation to generation, and they are never likely to preserve a
wicked book from oblivion. Ultimately such go to light fires and
encompass groceries.
Your loving old
G.P.
8
MY DEAR ANTONY,
Milton, of whom I wrote in my last letter, was five years older than
Jeremy Taylor, of whom I am going to write to-day. The latter's
writings differ very much from Milton's, although they were
contemporaries for the whole of the former's life.
From the grave and august periods of Milton to the sweet beauty of
Jeremy Taylor is as the passing from out the austere halls of Justice to
lovely fields full of flowers.
Your and my great kinsman, Coleridge, pronounced Jeremy Taylor to be
the most eloquent of all divines; and Coleridge was a great critic.
Indeed, there seems to dwell permanently in Jeremy Taylor's mind a
compelling sweetness and serenity.
His parables, though sometimes perhaps almost of set purpose fanciful,
are always full of beauty.
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