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It is not impossible that time and lenient measures might ter entreating Morton, in a brief note, never to make any have conciliated the nation to Episcopacy! But impa- farther enquiries concerning her fate. While matters are tient and short-sighted rulers let loose an infuriated sold in this state of uncertainty, Morton goes to London, diery, which made little distinction between friend or where he mixes with the wits of the day; visits Wills' coffeefoe; till partly in self-defence, partly in the madness of house ; becomes acquainted with Bolingbroke; and finally despair, the nation rose against its rulers, and that church, discovers his mistress in an obscure lodying in the suburbs, in whose name they perpetrated their enormities. where her father is confined to a sick-bed. The old man,
This is an interesting work, in many points of view, who has been accused of a share in the revolutionary poand ought to find its way very generally into the scho- litics of the day, dies ; and Morton marries Isora privately. lar's library.
Shortly after, he is summoned to the death-bed of his generous old uncle, with whom he was always the favour
ite, and whose extensive property it was expected would Devereur. A Tale. By the Author of Pelham. In be bequeathed solely to him. On Sir William's death, three Volumes. London. Henry Colburn. 1829. however, it is discovered that the will confers the whole
estates on Gerald, with the exception of some inferior beBy the goddesses ! as the author of “ Virginius" says, quests in money, to Morton and his brother Aubrey. there is metal in Mr Lytton Bulwer. Our readers may This strengthens his suspicions of Gerald's dishonesty, perhaps recollect that we reviewed his last work, “ The and he openly accuses him of having forged the instruDisowned,” at some length, and that we then gave him ment. His anger, however, is of no avail; Gerald takes credit for a good deal of unpruned genius, and vigorous, possession of the manor, and soon after Aubrey dies. though by no means very correct, habits of thinking. Morton now publicly solemnizes bis marriage. On tho We now liken him to a mountain stream, running a morning of the ceremony, a stranger calls upon him, and rapid and turbid course, but gradually becoming smooth- places in his hand a packet, containing a statement of the er and more pellucid as it proceeds on its way. There whole fraud practised upon him in the false will, but exare many faults, but there are also many beauties, in the acts from him a solemn promise that he will not open it novel before us. The faults are principally those of an for seven days. To this condition Morton accedes, and immature judgment,—the beauties are those of a man of goes to his bride to relate the new prospect of a change in genins. Our readers will be better able to understand his affairs. The sequel of this communication, and the any critical remarks we may feel inclined to make, after scene that follows, which is a striking and powerful one, we have presented them with a short account of the plot we give in the author's words :and leading incidents of “ Devereux.” As there is no
“ It was past midnight. All was hushed in our bridal thing we bate more than the labour of writing out this chamber. The single lamp, which hung above, burnt still analysis ourselves, we prefer rather giving it in the words, and clear; and through the half-closed curtains of the winslightly altered, of one of our London contemporaries dow, the moonlight looked in upon our couch, quiet, and who has already executed the task.
pure, and holy, as if it were charged with blessings. The hero, Morton, Count Devereux, is his own bio
“ Hush!''said Isora, gently; do you not hear a noise
below?' grapher. He flourished in the age of wits and rakes
“ I listened—my sense of hearing is naturally duller than the era of Addison, Bolingbroke, and Steele; the Au
my other senses. • Not a breath,' said I. •I hear not a gustan epoch of Pope and Swift. The period is well breath, save yours.' chosen for the display of the author's reading, which is “ . It was my fancy, then !' said Isora, and it has ceased extensive, although not profound. Sir Arthur Devereux, now;' and she clung closer to my breast and fell asleep. I the grandfather of the hero, was a gentleman allied to se
Jooked on her peaceful and childish countenance, with that veral branches of the nobility, and possessing in his own
concentrated and full delight, with which we clasp all that right a princely fortune. His eldest son, William, suc
the universe holds dear to us, and feel as if the universe held ceeds to his estates, being more fortunate than his bro nought beside—and thus sleep also crept upon me.
“ I awoke suddenly; I felt Isora trembling palpably by ther, who, after distinguishing himself in French my side. Before I could speak to her, I saw, standing at a service, dies a marshal of France, leaving his widow and little distance from the bed, a man wrapt in a long dark three sons, of whom Morton Devereux is the eldest, de- cloak, and masked; but his eyes shone through the mask, pendent upon Sir William. These three sons are dis- and they glared full upon me. He stood with his arms tinguished by different temperaments, Morton being sa
folded, and perfectly motionless; but at the other end of
the room, before the escritoire in which I had locked the tirical, talented, and contradictory in his habits and important packet, stood another man, also masked, and tastes ; Gerald remarkable for his manliness and beauty ; wrapped in a disguising cloak of similar hue and fashion. and Aubrey for his early piety and delicacy of frame. This man, as if alarmed, turned suddenly, and I perceived The three boys are sent to school by their whimsical then that the escritoire was already opened, and that the and warm-hearted old uncle, where they quickly develope packet was in his hand. I tore myself from Isora's graspa cordial dislike, amounting almost to a mutual hatred, I stretched my hand to the table by my bedside; upon which which is fanned into fame by the cunning arts of a Je- my sword was always left: it was gone! No matter !-I suit, the family confessor, Julian Montreuil, a man se
was young, strong, fierce, and the stake at hazard was great.
I sprung from the bed; I precipitated myself upon the eretly mixed up in the intrigues then going forward to
man who held the packet. With one hand I grasped at the 'restore the exiled race to the throne of England. After | important document, with the other I strove to tear the he has left school, Morton meets accidentally an old Spa- mask from the robber's face. He endeavoured rather to nish refugee and his daughter, Isora, who reside in his shake me off than to attack me; and it was not till I bad immediate neighbourhood. He falls in love with the lady, nearly succeeded in unmasking him, that he drew forth a whose tender and affectionate character is beautifully de- short poniard, and stabbed me in the side. The blow, scribed and sustained throughout. A mystery, however, gered me, but only for an instant. I renewed my gripe at
which seemed purposely aimed to avoid a mortal part, staghaunts the Spaniards. A stranger, named Barnard, is a the packet-I tore it from the robber's hand, and collecting secret visitor at their cottage, and Isora is bound by an my strength, now fast ebbing away, for one effort, I bore gath not to reveal who he is, or to betray the object of his my assailant to the ground, and fell, struggling with him. stolen interviews. From some suspicious circumstances « But my blood flowed fast from my wound, and my antawhich transpire, Morton is led to believe that this Bar-gonist, if less sinewy than myself, bad greatly the advantage nard is his brother Gerald, who in that disguise seeks to
in weight and size. Now for one moment I was upperpoison the mind, and rob him of the affections, of his first most, but in the next his knee was upon my chest, and his love. Natural aversion turns now into black hate and blade gleamed on high in the pale light of the lamp and
I thought I beheld my death-would to God that Morton vows revenge against his supposed enemy. At I had! With a piercing cry, Isora sprang from the bed, length, the Spaniard and his daughter disappear, the lat- flung herself before the lifted blade of the robber, and ar
rested his arm. This man had, in the whole contest, acted ought unquestionably to have ended with the death of with a singular forbearance—he did so now—he paused for Isora ; for she is the personage in whom the reader is by a moment, and dropped his hand. Hitherto, the other man
far the most interested, both on her own account, and had not stirred from his mute position: he now moved one
from her connexion with the hero. Her character is step towards us, brandishing a poniard like his comrade's. Isora raised her hand supplicatingly towards him, and cried well drawn, not so much in consequence of what she is out-Spare him, spare him!-Oh, mercy, mercy!' With made to do, as in consequence of what the author says one stride the ruffian was by my side: he muttered some ahout her. This is probably one of the leading distincwords which passion seemed to render inarticulate, and half tions between an intelligent young writer and one of mapushing aside his counrade, his raised weapon flashed before turer years. The first puts himself in the place of his my eyes, now dim and reeling, I made a vain effort to rise dramatis persona, and thinks a great deal for them; the
- the blade descended – Isora, unable to arrest it, threw her latter keeps altogether in the background, and makes the self before it her blood, her heart's blood, gushed over me -I saw and felt no more.
beings he has called into existence act and speak for “When I recovered my senses, my servants were round themselves. We have not yet, however, sufficiently ex. me-a deep red wet stain upon the sofa on which I was plained our opinion of “ Devereux," which we shall do laid, brought the whole scene I had witnessed again before in a very few words. me terrible and distinct. I sprang to my feet, and asked The leading faults of the novel are, Ist, A want of for Isora ; a low murmur caught my ear-I turned, and unity of design, so palpable, that we question whether beheld a dark form stretched on the bed, and surrounded Mr Bulwer ever had any distinct notion, after he bad like myself by gazers and menials. I tottered towards that finished one chapter, of what was to be in the next; and, bed, my bridal bed- I motioned, with a fierce gesture, the crowd away, I heard my name breathed audibly—the next at all events, we are sure that he had no regular plan moment I was by Isora's side. All pain—all weakness— spread out before him, like a map, at the commencement. all consciousness of my wound-of my very self, were gone 2d, An affectation of being familiar with several subjects,
- life seemed curdled into a single agonizing and fearful on which it may easily be discovered he is only slightly thought. I fixed my eyes upon hers; and though there the informed. 3d, A straining after effect, and a much more film was gathering dark and rapidly, I saw, yet visible and evident anxiety to be brilliant than to be judicious. 4th, unconquered, the deep love of that faithful and warm heart The introduction of so many eminent persons, whether in which had lavished its life for mine.
“I threw my arins round her-I pressed my lips wildly the literary or political world, that, so far from being able to hers. Speak-speak!' I cried, and my blood gushed to do justice to them all, little more, at an average, than a over her with the effort ; 'in mercy, speak !'
few pages is allotted to each ; and, in point of fact, the trick “Even in death and agony, the gentle being, who had can be called little else than a tolerably ingenious expebeen as wax unto my lightest wish,
struggled to obey me. dient to make a few splendid names bear out a common• Do not grieve for me," she said, in a tremulous and broken place dialogue, when it is obvious that the dialogue ought voice: it is dearer to die for you than to live!' “ Those were her last words. I felt her breath abruptly to be worthy of the celebrity of the speakers. It is a pe
The heart, pressed to mine, was still! I started up culiarly hazardous, and not a very advisable attempt, for in dismay—the light shone full upon her face. O God! a young author, to undertake to put language into the that I should live to write that Isora was-no more!”. mouths of all the wits of the reigns of Queen Anne and Vol. II. pp 129-34.
George I., and of all the statesmen, poets, and philoso Morton now seeks relief in travel. He accompanies phers of the court of Louis XIV. It need not be matter Lord Bolingbroke in his flight from England; goes to of surprise that Mr Bulwer has, in many instances, egrethe court of France ; again plunges into society; meets giously failed. all the French wits; is presented to Louis Quatorze ; The merits of “ Devereux,” however, are no less conmakes a friendship with the regent, Philip of Orleans ; spicuous than its faults; and they are of a nature which, makes an enemy of the celebrated Dubois; and, on the taking it for all in all, incline us to look upon it as the pretext of an embassy to the court of Peter the Great, is best novel of the season. What we chiefly like about our sent out of France. In Russia he mixes with the mari- author is, that upon every occasion he thinks for himner-monarch, and the statesmen of Catherine's court; self; and that he can, whenever he chooses, open a vein until at last, growing sick of life, with his usual incon- of fresh and strong thought, which does not soon exhaust sistency, he retires to Italy to ruminate and die. Here itself. He despises the common drivel of the ordinary he meets a hermit, who has led for some years a most novel-writer; and, when he is unsuccessful, it is by atascetic life in a forest. This hermit entrusts him with tempting too much, not by being content with too little. a MS., containing a history of his past life, by which He is very versatile also ;„he is often eloquent, and as Morton makes the unexpected discovery, that in the per- often humorous; he excels in pathos, and his descrip son of the hermit, now dying, he is reunited to his bro- tions are always graphic. With these recommendations, ther Aubrey, supposed to be dead ; and that his brother when time has purged away still more of the dross of inAubrey, having been himself attached to Isora, was the experience, we do think that he will present us with some tormentor who so long tortured him under the disguise works of lasting popularity, and of much more sustained of Barnard, was the forger of the will, and the murderer excellence. It strikes us, that there is a good deal of reof his wife. Having obtained a clew to trace the access semblance between the style of Mr Bulwer and that of ories of these merciless deeds, and learning that Mon- the author of “ Vivian Grey." We wonder what has betreuil, the Jesuit, was the instigator of the ingenious vil- come of the latter ;-there are scenes in “ Vivian Grey " lainies, Morton returns to England, determined to dis- which Bulwer has never equalled. We shall conclude cover his foe, take ample revenge, and make due atone- these remarks with two extracts, of a different nature, ment to the injured Gerald. He tracks Montreuil to his but both of which place the writer in a favourable point retreat, by the aid of an accomplice in his schemes, and of view. The first is a letter from the uncle of the hero, the work ends with the book of the Jesuit.
Sir William Devereux, whose character is more vividly It will now be perceived that this work might, with hit off than any other in the book. It may be entitled, greater propriety, be entitled “ The Life and Times of
ADVICE REGARDING MATRIMONY. Count Devereux,” than a Novel. From the middle of
“ 'Sdeath! nephew Morton!-But I won't scold thee, the second volume, to nearly the conclusion of the third, though thou deservest it. Let me see; thou art now scarce there does not oceur an incident which, in so far as the twenty, and thou talkest of marriage, which is the exclusive main plot is concerned, might not with equal propriety business of middle-age, as familiarly as girls of thirteen do have been left out. The truth is, judging by this and
of puppy dogs.' Marry! go hang thyself rather. Marriage, his previous production, Mr Bulwer's forte does not lie in my dear boy, is at the best a treacherous proceeding; and the conducting of a story. In both instances he manages it rashly. Look you— I have had experience in these mat
a friend - a true friend-will never counsel another to adopt his tale very unskilfully. In “ Devereux,” the novel ters: and I think the moment a woman is wedded, some terrible revolution happens in her system ; all her former | you would have wept not for your own, over whose pure good qualities vanish, hey presto, like eggs out of a conjuror's and unvexed sleep you have watched and prayed, and, as it kir,-'tis true, they appear on t'other side of the box, the lay before you thus still and unconscious of your vigil, have side turned to other people,—but for the poor husband, they shaped out, oh! such bright hopes for its future lot, would are gone for ever. Odd's fish, Morton, go to! I tell thee you not rather that, while thus innocent and young, not a again, that I have had experience in these matters, which care tasted, not a crime incurred, it went down at once into thou never hast had, clever as thou thinkest thyself. If the dark grave? Would you not rather suffer this grief, now it were a good marriage thou was't about to make - bitter though it be, than watch the predestined victim grow if thou were going to wed power, and money, and places and ripen, and wind itself more and more around your at court, why, something might be said for thee. As it is, heart, and, when it is of full and mature age, and you yourthere is no excuse-none; and I am astonished how a boy self are stricken in years, and can form no new ties to of thy sense could think of such nonsense. Birth! Morton; replace the old that are severed,—when woes have already what the devil does that signify, so long as it is birth in an- bowed the darling of your hopes, whom woe never was to other country? A foreign damsel, and a Spanish girl, too, touch, when sins have already darkened the bright, seabove all others! 'Sdeath! man, as if there was not quick raph, unclouded heart, which sin was never to dim,-behold silver enough in the English women for you; you must it sink, day by day, altered, diseased, decayed, into the tomb make a mercurial exportation from Spain, must you! Why, which its childhood had in vain escaped ? Answer me ! Morton—Morton, the ladies in that country are proverbial. Would not the earlier fate be far gentler than the last ? I tremble at the very thought of it. But as for my consent, And if you have known and wept over that early tombif I never will give it-never; and though I threaten thee you have seen the infant flower fade away from the green not with disinberitance, and such like, yet I do ask some- soil of your affections if you have missed the bounding thing in return for the great affection í have always borne step, and the laughing eye, and the winning mirtb, which thee; and I make no doubt, that thou wilt readily oblige made this sterile world a perpetual holiday-mother of the me in such a trifle as giving up a mere Spanish Donna,-80 lost, if you have known, and you still pine for these, anthink of her no more. If thou wantest to make love, there swer me yet again-Is it not a comfort, even while you are ladies in plenty, whom thou needest not to marry; and mourn, to think of all that that breast, now so silent, has for my part, I thought that thou wast all in all with the escaped? The cream, the sparkle, the elixir of life, it had Lady Hasselton-Heaven bless her pretty face! Now already quaffed; is it not siveet to think it shunned the don't think I want to scold thes—and don't think thine wormwood and the dregs ? Answer me, even though the old uncle harsh. God knows he is not ; but, my dear, dear answer be in tears! Mourner, your child was to you what boy, this is quite out of the question, and thou must let me my early and only love was to me; and could you pierce bear no more about it. The gout cripples me so, that I down, down through a thousand fathom of ebbing thought, must leave off. Ever thine own old uncle."-Vol. II. pp. to the far depths of my heart, you would there behold a 7-9.
sorrow and a consolation, that have something in unison. Our other quotation is of a more serious and impas- with your own.”—Vol. II. pp. 28-32. sioned kind. We give it as a specimen of the author's This is finely written, but it appears to us to illustrate powers in this species of composition :
one of the errors to which we have alluded, namely, that THOUGHTS ON PARTING FROM THOSE WE LOVE. for the sake of being strong and original, Mr Bulwer has “ Ou my arrival at Isora's, I found her already sta- given up the higher beauty of being just and sound. We tioned at the window, watching for my coming. How her question much whether any mother would wish to see dark eyes lit into lustre when they saw me! How the rich her child die young to avoid the certainty of its dying in blood inantled up under the soft cheek which feeling had refined of late into a paler hue than it was wout, when I first and this is not the only instance of the kind which we
the prime of life. There is sophistry in the argument; gazed upon it, to wear! Then how fled her light step to meet me! How trembled her low voice to welcome me! How spake, could adduce. We ought also to remark, that the book from every gesture of her graceful and modelled form, the falls very much off towards the conclusion. The tame anxious, joyful, all-animating gladness of her heart! It is a manner in which Morton Devereux receives the confesmelancholy pleasure to the dry, harsh after-thoughts of latersion of his brother Aubrey's guilt, is a blemish we can lite, to think one has been thus loved ; and one marvels, scarcely pardon. His milk-and-water forgiveness of the when one considers what one is, how it could ever have been! villain Aubrey is an insult to the memory of Isora. That love of ours was never made for after years ! It could never have flowed into the common and cold channel of or
But, notwithstanding all these things, Mr Bulwer has dinary affairs ! It could never have been mingled with the impressed us, and not only us, but the public generally, putty cares and the low objects with which the loves of all with a feeling of his abilities. We call upon him, therewho live long together in this sordid and most earthly fore, to go on,—to be bold in the exercise, yet diffident earth, are sooner or later blended! We could not have of the extent, of bis own powers,—to cultivate assiduoussp.ured to others an atom of the great wealth of our affec. ly all his imaginative faculties, but not at the expense of tion. We were misers of every coin in that exhaustless treasury. It would have pierced me to the soul to have seen Isora valuable than the lore of ages,—to husband his resources,
his judgment,—to study mankind as a living book, more smile upon another. I know not even, had we had children, if I should not have been jealous of my child! Was this sel and to extend his knowledge,—and, without arrogating fish love? Yes, it was intensely, wholly selfish; but it was to ourselves any extraordinary power of prophecy, we a love made so only by its excess, nothing selfish on a small- venture to foretell, that he will rise to a prominent place er scale polluted it. There was not on earth that which the among the literary men of his day. one would not have forfeited at the lightest desire of the other. So utterly were happiness and Isora entwined together, that I could form no momentary idea of the former, with which the latter was not connected. Was this love Sermons. By Ralph Wardlaw, D.D., Glasgow. Edinmade for the many and miry roads through which man burgh. Adam Black. 1829. 8vo. Pp. 526. must travel ? Was it made for age, -or, worse than age, for that middle, cool, ambitious, scheming period of life, in which all the luxuriance and verdure of things are pared ple. They have been delineated with such clearness in
The leading doctrines of Christianity are few and siminto tame shapes that mimic life, but a life that is estranged from nature, in which art is the only beauty, and regular- the Sacred Record, and are so strikingly enforced, that ity the only grace? No; in my heart of hearts I feel that even the most illiterate may comprehend their import. our love was not meant for the stages of life through which This extreme simplicity, which was so essential for renI have already passed; it would have made us miserable to dering Christianity efficacious as a practical system, has see it fritter itself away, and to remember wbat it once was. been frequently deemed unfavourable for the culture of Better as it is! better to mourn over the green bough than pulpit oratory. A clergyman, no doubt, uniformly han. to look upon the sapless stem. You, who now glance over these pages, are you a mother ?—if so, answer me ope ques- the attention of his auditory, rather by the skilful eluci
dles the same facts; and, consequently, he must arrest tion-Would you not rather that the child whom you have cherished with your soul's care, -whom you have nurtured dation of familiar topics, than by the powerful attraction at your bosom,—whose young joys your eyes have sparkled of original theories. But then, it must be remembered to behold, --whose lightest grief you have wept to witness, as that religion is not an isolated science. It is closely linked with every branch of human knowledge. It de- of the most prominent articles of gospel truth. We have rives some of its most apposite illustrations from the dif- also two discourses upon good works; and a powerful ferent lights and shades of human character— from the argumentative sermon on the untenable nature of that mysterious combination of volitions, antipathies, and af- objection which is frequently levelled against Christianity fections concentrated in the human heart—and from the —the inconsistencies of its professed believers. The ninth varying aspects of human life. If, therefore, the per- and tenth discourses explain the advantages of genuine fection of eloquence consists in developing truth in its religion; and the three concluding sermons, originally most winning form, where can it more freely expatiate preached on public occasions, relate to divine delight in than amidst the numerous and diversified themes which Christ. Christianity offers for intellectual speculation? A mere We are much pleased with the evangelical spirit in declamatory harangue, indeed, can leave no salutary im- | which our author demonstrates the nature and reasonpressions. Its only tendency is to please the imagina- ableness of true religion. He thus feelingly introduces tion, by presenting a number of abstract thoughts, some his subject : of them, perhaps, elegantly expressed, but all of them “ I might try to set religion before you, as residing in the unproductive of any permanent intluence. As the re. bosom, and ruling in the character, of a sinless creature, moval of a single tessera will disorder an entire piece of a creature that has never fallen; the derived purity of the Mosaic, so the whole strength of a discourse, purely rhe- creature holding immediate and intimate fellowship with torical, will be impaired by the partial modification of the essential purity of the Creator. But not only from our its language. We would not, however, discountenance the description would not at all suit our case.
mournful want of experience, would the task be difficult;
Although warmth in the composition of a sermon. Far less would the religion of man, when he came in his original innocence we substitute the artificial arrangement of a dry, logical from the band of his Maker, it would not be his religion essay, only characterized by scholastic casuistry. Per- now. haps the Socratic method of argumentation is, in itself, “ I might exhibit religion, clothed in the fascinating, but the least objectionable, though the difficulty of classifying delusive, sentimentalism of romance and poetry; expatiaa consecutive variety of causes, conducing to one great ting on the power, and wisdom, and goodness of the Deity, result, somewhat circumscribes its utility. But keeping sensibilities of taste, and flattering you to self-complacency,
as manifested in the wonders of creation,-wakening the in view the innate dignity and importance of his subject, by calling them devotion,--and inviting you into the Temand its immediate bearing on the immortal destinies of ple of Nature, to worship at the shrine of Nature's God. his flock, a clergyman ought, on all occasions, to follow I might tell you, too, of the religion (closely allied to this) that course, which, by touching their feelings, and con- of an anti-scriptural and spurious philosophy; according to vincing their judgments, will most effectually tend to re
which the Divine nature is all mercy,-all easy and pliant commend the precepts of Christianity to their cheerful ac benignity, with a countenance that cannot frown, and a ceptance and submissive obedience.
heart that never can bring itself to punish ; and the human
nature all native simplicity and goodness, though alloyed by Our expectations were considerably excited by the an
unavoidable frailties, and too often seduced by the allurenouncement of the volume now before us, in consequence ments of evil. of the approbation with which the former productions of “ But such representations would not be in harmony with its author have been received, though, probably, none of the truth of things. In making them, I should be giving these is so well entitled to praise as his latest publication. the lie to that book which I believe to contain the mind of From the preface to it, we presume that the whole of the God;-I should be deceiving, criminally and ruinously desermons have been preached ex cathedra, and, of course, ceiving, the souls of my hearers, and jeoparding my own.
On such subjects, subjects of which the interest is so deep, Dr Wardlaw's own congregation must peruse the volume and the results depending on their truth or falsehood so with the advantage of many salutary associations, and vast and so permanent, there ought to be nothing but plain with a full recollection of the ardent and emphatic ear- dealing ;-no imposing disguises,-no soothing palliations nestness, which imparts so great a charm to his oral de- of truth-but things as they are.”—Pp. 251-3. livery. But it may be also contidently affirmed, that by Nor is his portraiture of the happiness of religion less the public in general the present volume will be readily striking. He observes : appreciated. We have seen many sermons more remark- “ It is full of interest and delight.–Did the Eden of oriable for graceful style and chaste expression, but very few ginal innocence and felicity still exist in unblighted loveliso replete with forcible reasoning and vivid exposition. ness, with all its divine garniture of sweets and beauties, There is no tedious amplification of the same ideas, art- we should not be satisfied with throwing a mere hasty and fully disguised under different forms of language. Each careless glance within its gates; we should choose to linger sentence abounds with good sense and valuable instruc- amongst its inviting scenes, to stop at every turn, to inhale tion. In refuting any sceptical argument—in exposing Nature's melody, to let our eye repose at leisure on every
every breath of passing fragrance, to listen to every note of any doctrinal error-in reprobating any prevalent vice- new variety of elegance, sublimity, or grace. So, the pleain recommending any indispensable duty-our author sures of true religion form a theme so attractive, that I candisplays both sound divinity and intimate acquaintance not dismiss it with a brief superficial notice. I should like with the world. It has often been disputed amongst to lead you with me into this • garden of God,' and to de critics, whether the model of Bourdaloue or Massilon-tain you amidst its various delights; in the hope, that of the two most eminent of French divines—is entitled to
those by whom these delights have already been tasted and preference. The former bas been peculiarly celebrated by the blessing of liim who has kindly planted this spirit
enjoyed, the relish for them may be heightened ; and that, as a profound controversialist, without great pretensions ual Eden amid the wastes of our sinful world, a taste for to elegance; while the fame of the latter more imme- them may be imparted to such as are yet strangers to the diately rests on the brilliancy of his diction and the beauty experience of their excellence.”—Pp. 273-4. of his sentiments. The union of these somewhat oppo- Our author is a decided enemy to modern Millennasite qualities seems to us to constitute the essential ele- rianism. His views are fully expressed in the last serments of a sermon; and it is the frequent blending of mon, and the text he has prefixed to it, from the Revelathese in Dr Wardlaw's discourses which we would par- tions, is one of those passages principally relied on by ticularly commend.
the advocates for the system. The chief question reThe volume opens with two excellent discourses upon specting the passage is, whether it must be interpreted the text, “ Christ crucified;" which are followed by a literally or symbolically—whether, on the one hand, the third, containing an enquiry into the cause why apostolic passage is to be understood of a real personal appearance evidence originally failed to meet with general acceptance and reign of the Lord Jesus Christ on earth, and of a The fourth sermon sets forth an able defence of the doc- real corporeal resurrection from the grave; or whether, trine of Justification, which Luther deemed articulus on the other hand, the representation is not rather to be stantis vel cadentis ecclesiæ, and which is undoubtedly one interpreted on the principle of prophetic symbol, as figuratively representing the character and condition of the that forgotten and despised science, was a late eminent proChurch during the period of the thousand years. Our fessor of the art of legerdemain. One would have thought author adduces a series of observations, tending most de- that a person of this description ought, from his knowledge cidedly to prove the latter hypothesis. He justly re- ved, to have been less than others subject to the phantasies
of the thousand ways in which human eyes could be decei. marks : “ It ought not to be regarded as an evidence of the Mil- calculations, by which, in a manner surprising to the artist
of superstition. Perhaps the habitual use of those abstruse lennarian interpretation being the true one, that it accords himself, many tricks upon cards, &c. are performed, indu, with the plain and literal meaning of the words. I must ced this gentleman to study the combination of the stars and not satisfy myself, indeed, wit putting merely in a planets, with the expectation of obtaining prophetic com. negative form.' I go farther. It appears to me a proof of munications. He constructed a scheme of his own nativity, the very contrary. It should be recollected, that the pass- calculated according to such rules of art as he could collect age forms part of a prophetical book-of a book that is con
from the best astrological authors. The result of the past structed on the very principle of symbol, and figurative al- he found agreeable to what had bitherto befallen bim; but most throughout. Is it not, then, a fair and reasonable prin- in the important prospect of the future, a singular difficulty ciple of interpretation, that this particular passage should occurred. There were two years, during the course of be understood in harmony with the general character of which he could by no means obtain any exact knowledge the book? Did the words occur in an historical or episto- whether the subject of the scheme would be dead or alive. lary composition, it would be justly pronounced unnatural Anxious concerning so remarkable a circumstance, he gave -unless we were specially warned of the writer's proposed the scheme to a brother astrologer, who was also baffled in deviation from his ordinary style-to explain them synboli- the same manner. cally. Now, in a professedly symbolical book, there is the subject, was certainly alive; at another, that he was un
At one period, he found the native, or very same force of objection against their being interpreted questionably dead; but a space of two years extended beliterally. The interpretation is not in harmony with the tween these two terms, during which he could find no ceravowed and universally admitted style of the writer, and tainty as to his death or existence. The astrologer marked the principle on which his entire work is constructed. It the remarkable circumstance in his Diary, and continued is just as unfair to interpret prophecy on the principles of his exhibitions in various parts of the empire, until the per simple history, as it would be to interpret simple history by riod was about to expire, during which his existence had the symbols of prophecy. We might bring the force of the been warranted as actually ascertained. At last, while he arguinent to bear still more closely. The whole of the very was exhibiting to a numerous audience his usual tricks of vision where the text lies is symbolical. We have, in the legerdemain, the hands, whose activity had so often batiled preceding verses, the Dragon,—the binding of him with a
the closest observer, suddenly lost their power, the cards chain, and setting a seal upon him, or upon the entrance of dropped from them, and he sunk down a disabled paralytic. his prison. Why, then, are we immediately to make a In this state the artist languished for two years, when he transition from the symbolical to the literal, from the ob
was at length removed by death. It is said that the Diary scure and figurative to the direct and simple,—from the style of this modern astrologer will soon be given to the public. of prophecy to the style of history? Why are we, in the
“The fact, if truly reported, is one of those singular cotext, to understand literal thrones of earthly dominion, and incidences which occasionally appear, differing so widely a literal and corporeal resurrection of men to sit upon those from ordinary calculation, yet without which irregularities, thrones, when all around is symbolical and figurative?"- human life would not present to mortals, looking into futuPp. 498-9.
rity, the abyss of impenetrable darkness, which it is the Indeed, we regard the whole train of our author's rea- pleasure of the Creator it should offer to them. Were every soning on this point as a complete argumentum ad judi- thing to happen in the ordinary train of events, the future cium, and as calculated to show the singular inconsistency would be subject to the rules of arithmetic, like the chances of the Millennarians themselves. On the whole, we have of gaining.. But extraordinary events, and wonderful runs experienced much gratification from the perusal of Dr of luck, defy the calculations of mankind, and throw imWardlaw's sermons; and, though our quotations have
penetrable darkness on future contingencies."
“ To the above anecdote, another, still more recent, may been necessarily limited, we think they will be sufficient be here added. The author was lately honoured with a let. to recommend the volume to the attentive consideration ter from a gentleman deeply skilled in these mysteries, who of our readers.
kindly undertook to calculate the nativity of the writer of
Guy Mannering, who might be supposed to be friendly to The Waverley Novels—New Edition. Vol. Third. Guy to supply data for the construction of a horoscope, had the
the divine art which he professed. But it was impossible Mannering. Edinburgh. Cadell and Co. 1829.
native been otherwise desirous of it, since all those who The Publishers have arranged, that only one volume could supply the minutiæ of day, hour, and minute, have of this elegant work, which is to be comprised in forty been long removed from the mortal sphere.”—Pp. 16-19. volumes, is to appear on the first of every month. We
Sir Walter next proceeds to inform us, that the gipsy have now before us the first volume of Guy Mannering, upon whom the character of Meg Merrilies is founded
was well known, about the middle of the last century, by for August. Its peculiar attractions consist of a new Introduction by the author, an excellent frontispiece by of Kirk-Yetholm, in the Cheviot Hills, adjoining to the
the name of Jean Gordon, an inhabitant of the village Leslie, representing Dominie Sampson in Colonel ManDering's library, and a very spirited vignette by Kidd.
English Border. It appears, also, that in one of the In the Introduction, Sir Walter informs us that the early Numbers of Blackwood's Magazine he gave a pretty story upon which this novel was founded was original Meg Merrilies to Dominie Sampson, we meet with the
minute account of this remarkable person. Passing from ly told him by an old servant of his father. ance with the nature of this narrative, his first plan in- following passage regarding our old friend :ferred a stricter adherence to astrological superstitions than he afterwards found it advisable to preserve. Sir
“ Such a preceptor as Mr Sampson is supposed to have Walter, however, still retains a leaning towards astro
been, was actually tutor in the family of a gentleman of considerable property:
The young lads, his pupils, grew logy, which the following passage will illustrate. The
and went out in the world, but the tutor continued to professor of the art of legerdemain to which he alludes is, reside in the family, no uncommon circumstance in Scot. we believe, the celebrated Boaz; and we suspect he is land, (in former days,) where food and shelter were readily indebted for the anecdote he tells concerning him to Mr afforded to humble friends and dependents. The Lairl's John Howell, the ingenious author of the Life of Alex- predecessors had been imprudent; he himself was passive ander Selkirk.
and unfortunate. Death swept away his sons, whose success in life might have balanced his own bad luck and incan
pacity. Debts increased and funds diminished, until ruin " It is here worthy of observation, that while the astro- The estate was sold ; and the old man was about to logical doctrines have fallen into general contempt, and been remove from the house of his fathers, to go he knew not supplanted by superstitions of a more gross and far less whither, when, like an old piece of furniture, which, left beautiful character, they have, even in modern days, retained alone in its wonted corner, may hold together for a long some votaries. One of the most remarkable believers in while, but breaks to pieces on an attempt to move it, he fell
THE ORIGINAL DOMINIE SAMPSON.