they 
cannot have a better account of their lives, than to let them run out and 
slide away, to pass them over and to baulk them, and as much as they 
can, to take no notice of them and to shun them, as a thing of 
troublesome and contemptible quality. But I know it to be another kind 
of thing, and find it both valuable and commodious even in its latest 
decay, wherein I now enjoy it, and nature has delivered it into our 
hands in such and so favourable circumstances that we commonly 
complain of ourselves, if it be troublesome to us or slide unprofitably 
away.'] they are only 'pastime'; they serve only, as this word confesses, 
to pass away the time, to prevent it from hanging, an intolerable burden, 
on men's hands: all which they can do at the best is to prevent men 
from discovering and attending to their own internal poverty and 
dissatisfaction and want. He might have added that there is the same 
acknowledgment in the word 'diversion' which means no more than that 
which diverts or turns us aside from ourselves, and in this way helps us 
to forget ourselves for a little. And thus it would appear that, even 
according to the world's own confession, all which it proposes is--not to 
make us happy, but a little to prevent us from remembering that we are 
unhappy, to pass away our time, to divert us from ourselves. While on 
the other hand we declare that the good which will really fill our souls 
and satisfy them to the uttermost, is not in us, but without us and above 
us, in the words which we use to set forth any transcending delight.
Take three or four of these words--'transport,' 'rapture,' 'ravishment,' 
'ecstasy,'--'transport,' that which carries us, as 'rapture,' or 'ravishment,' 
that which snatches us out of and above ourselves; and 'ecstasy' is very 
nearly the same, only drawn from the Greek. And not less, where a 
perversion of the moral sense has found place, words preserve 
oftentimes a record of this perversion. We have a signal example of this 
in the use, or rather misuse, of the words 'religion' and 'religious' during 
the Middle Ages, and indeed in many parts of Christendom still. A 
'religious' person did not then mean any one who felt and owned the 
bonds that bound him to God and to his fellow-men, but one who had 
taken peculiar vows upon him, the member of a monastic Order, of a 
'religion' as it was called. As little did a 'religious' house then mean, nor 
does it now mean in the Church of Rome, a Christian household, 
ordered in the fear of God, but a house in which these persons were 
gathered together according to the rule of some man. What a light does 
this one word so used throw on the entire state of mind and habits of 
thought in those ages! That then was 'religion,' and alone deserved the 
name! And 'religious' was a title which might not be given to parents 
and children, husbands and wives, men and women fulfilling faithfully 
and holily in the world the duties of their several stations, but only to 
those who had devised a self-chosen service for themselves. [Footnote: 
A reviewer in Fraser's Magazine, Dec. 1851, doubts whether I have not 
here pushed my assertion too far. So far from this, it was not merely the 
'popular language' which this corruption had invaded, but a decree of 
the great Fourth Lateran Council (A.D. 1215), forbidding the further 
multiplication of monastic Orders, runs thus: Ne nimia religionum 
diversitas gravem in Ecclesia Dei confusionem inducat, firmiter 
prohibemus, ne quis de cetero novam religionem inveniat, sed 
quicunque voluerit ad religionem converti, unam de approbatis 
assumat.] 
But language is fossil history as well. What a record of great social 
revolutions, revolutions in nations and in the feelings of nations, the 
one word 'frank' contains, which is used, as we all know, to express 
aught that is generous, straightforward, and free. The Franks, I need not 
remind you, were a powerful German tribe, or association of tribes, 
who gave themselves [Footnote: This explanation of the name Franks 
is now generally given up. The name is probably a derivative from a
lost O.H.G. francho, a spear or javelin: compare A.S. franca, Icel. 
_frakka_; similarly the Saxons are supposed to have derived their name 
from a weapon--seax, a knife; see Kluge's Dict. (s.v. _frank_).] this 
proud name of the 'franks' or the free; and who, at the breaking up of 
the Roman Empire, possessed themselves of Gaul, to which they gave 
their own name. They were the ruling conquering people, honourably 
distinguished from the Gauls and degenerate Romans among whom 
they established themselves by their independence, their love of 
freedom, their scorn    
    
		
	
	
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