Basils and Chrysostoms, the Austins and Jeroms, compelled me to embrace the superior merits of celibacy, the institution of the monastic life, the use of the sign of the cross, of holy oil, and even of images, the invocation of saints, the worship of relics, the rudiments of purgatory in prayers for the dead, and the tremendous mystery of the sacrifice of the body and blood of Christ, which insensibly swelled into the prodigy of transubstantiation.  In these dispositions, and already more than half a convert, I formed an unlucky intimacy with a young gentleman of our college, whose name I shall spare.  With a character less resolute, Mr. ——­ had imbibed the same religious opinions; and some Popish books, I know not through what channel, were conveyed into his possession.  I read, I applauded, I believed; the English translations of two famous works of Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, the ‘Exposition of the Catholic Doctrine,’ and the ‘History of the Protestant Variations,’ achieved my conversion; and I surely fell by a noble hand.  I have since examined the originals with a more discerning eye, and shall not hesitate to pronounce, that Bossuet is indeed a master of all the weapons of controversy.  In the ‘Exposition,’ a specious apology, the orator assumes, with consummate art, the tone of candour and simplicity; and the ten-horned monster is transformed, at his magic touch, into the milk-white Hind, who must be loved as soon as she is seen.  In the ‘History,’ a bold and well-aimed attack, he displays, with a happy mixture of narrative and argument, the faults and follies, the changes and contradictions of our first reformers:  whose variations (as he dexterously contends) are the mark of historical error, while the perpetual unity of the Catholic Church is the sign and test of infallible truth.  To my present feelings, it seems incredible, that I should ever believe that I believed in transubstantiation.  But my conqueror oppressed me with the sacramental words, ‘Hoc est corpus meum,’ and dashed against each other the figurative half-meanings of the Protestant sects; every objection was resolved into omnipotence; and, after repeating at St. Mary’s the Athanasian creed, I humbly acquiesced in the mystery of the real presence.

“To take up half on trust, and half to try,
Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry,
Both knave and fool, the merchant we may call,
To pay great sums, and to compound the small;
For who would break with heaven, and would not break for all?”

                                GIBBON’S Memoirs of his own Life.

[6] In a libel in the “State Poems,” vol. iii., Dryden is made to say,

“One son turned me, I turned the other two,
But had not an indulgence, sir, like you”—­Page 244

[7] Vol. xviii.